


Through the Veil

by misskaileymarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-07 07:35:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13429959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskaileymarie/pseuds/misskaileymarie
Summary: Hermione Granger agrees to break into the Department of Mysteries one last time to help her best friend find closure. Little did she know that the Veil hides more than whispers. Transported to the year 1975, Hermione must face ghosts, friends, and new adventures-- but where is Harry?





	1. Chapter 1

May **2 nd, 1999**

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed in exasperation as she looked at her best friend. “Couldn’t you have dressed up just a little bit?” She shot a wild-eyed look at Luna Lovegood.

            Luna simply smiled dreamily at Hermione, grasping Harry’s hand even tighter than before.

            Unlike the Boy Who Lived, Hermione and Luna were wearing formal wear in preparation for the night’s events. Hermione was wearing a periwinkle dress that was highly reminiscent of her Yule Ball gown from what felt like a lifetime ago whilst Luna wore a soft yellow dress adorned with shells she presumably had found throughout her life.

            “Harry, I _specifically_ sent you the dress-wear I requested for tonight. I’ve spent so long planning for this. _Please_ ,’ she begged as she looked the wizard up and down. Harry Potter had decided the appropriate wear for the grand re-opening of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was Muggle jean shorts with an obnoxiously bright floral shirt.

            “But this is _fun,_ Hermione. I don’t want to be miserable tonight. This is the first time I’m stepping foot in Hogwarts since that day. If I’m in a suit it’s just going to feel like I’m at a funeral. And we’ve been to a lifetime’s worth of those,” He looked at her pointedly and he sounded quite serious. More serious than Hermione had heard him in a while, as Harry had been repressing a lot of the past year by joking around.

            Hermione sighed in exasperation as she looked at his ridiculous outfit once more. It was the kind of sigh that let Harry knew he won this fight.

            “Well you’ll look completely out of pl-“ Hermione was interrupted by Ron entering Grimmauld Place—the home Harry had been renovating and residing in since the battle.

            “Not you too!” Hermione cried as she realized that Ron Weasley was wearing a nearly identical outfit to Harry’s. Luna began giggling at this point.

            “Sorry, ‘Mione,” the readhead began sheepishly, “but Harry had a point. Tonight we celebrate—no more mourning.”

            “I didn’t know you two were incapable of celebrating in a suit,” Hermione grumbled under her breath.

            “Don’t let our attire fool you, Hermione. We are still beyond proud of all the work you’ve done this year that’s led to tonight,” Harry said, laughing, but with sincerity laced in his voice. Hermione scoffed but ushered them to the floo so they could head out. Luna grabbed Harry’s hand tight, and Hermione smiled at them. Without Luna, Hermione’s not sure how Harry would have survived this past year. Harry had fallen into a bout of isolation that nobody was able to crack through. Ginny had tried but eventually realized that the love she had held for the boy just wasn’t going to fix him, and moved on.

            Hermione never did find out how Luna broke through the wall the young man had built up around himself, but she was certainly glad she had. Hermione had missed her best friend, and was glad to have him back even if he was more eccentric than he had ever been before.

            “Are you ready, Harry?” Hermione asked, her anxiety beginning to take over. Hermione, Ron, and Luna had all been back to Hogwarts since the battle. Hermione actually led the reparation team alongside Minerva. Most of the friends Hermione had made throughout her time at Hogwarts had helped in the rebuilding process, but Harry couldn’t do it. He said he wasn’t ready. Hermione had tried to beg Luna to convince Harry, but as most people know, begging Luna Lovegood to do something doesn’t usually end in success.

            “I’m not sure,” he said with a shrug before throwing the floo powder to the ground and shouting, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

            The four arrived in the Headmistress’ office and Minerva McGonagall gave them a moment to gather their bearings before rushing up to Harry in a moment of unabashed adoration for the young man. Harry’s glasses nearly fell off with the surprising force in which the older woman embraced him.

            “Welcome back, Harry,” she said, before straightening herself back up into headmistress mode. She shot a look at Hermione with a question in her eyes over what in merlin’s beard the two men were wearing. Hermione simply shook her head.

            “Harry,” a voice softly called from the other side of the room.

            “Albus,” Harry responded, emotion locked in his throat.

            “Miss. Granger has worked so hard for tonight. It is delightful you’ve come with,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Harry nodded and looked away, unprepared to be caught up in so many memories so quickly. Hermione had prepared for this and clapped her hands together to draw attention away from the portrait on the wall. She smirked at the obviously pretend state of sleep Severus was in in his own portrait.

            “As professor Dumbledore said, I _have_ put a lot of work in this year along with _many_ others and would love for you to see the castle,” Hermione said as the group began to leave the headmistress’ room. “Hogwarts is finally ready to open it’s doors back open. I’ve arranged some time for you three to see some of the changes before the rest of the lot comes along.”

            “Hermione, I think I would really love to have a conversation with Helena, as she used to be one of my closest friends during my time here—before meeting you all, of course,” Luna informed them. She pecked Harry on the cheek and skipped away to go find The Grey Lady. Hermione glanced at her friend and noticed the way he shoved his hands straight into his pocket as soon his emotional crutch was out of sight, an old nervous habit he still hadn’t gotten rid of.

            Despite the departure of Luna, Hermione was inwardly happy that she would have some alone time with her two dearest friends. The three of them hadn’t been alone in quite some time, especially since Ron and Hermione’s amicable end.

           Much of Hogwarts had been destroyed in the battle that took place one year ago, but anyone who came to the castle tonight would find it hard to recall the shambles the school had been left in as the castle looked better than it had before the final battle even took place. The Golden Trio was quiet on their walk down to the Quidditch Pitch. With the destruction of the field by Death Eaters, Ron, in one of his moments of brilliance, had proposed that they completely renovate it. All three members of the trio had received more money from the ministry than they knew what to do with after the war and both Ron and Harry had thrown some money Hermione’s way for the new stadium’s construction.

            “And this is Potter-Black field,” Hermione informed her friends as they approached the new Quidditch Pitch-- her hands wringing with nervousness. She hoped she had gotten this right. Harry eyes widened in shock and then looked happier than she had seen him in too long of a time. He ran up to the large golden sign that graced the entrance to the field and read out loud:

**Potter-Black Field**

_This field stands in memorial of James Charlus Potter and Sirius Orion Black_

_Who each embodied the best qualities a Quidditch Player should hold-_

_Bravery, Comraderie, and Souls that Sought Fun through even the Darkest Times._

            As Harry finished reading it he sprinted at Hermione and nearly suffocated her in a hug. Within his arms she gasped out “and we bought the best equipment we could as well as a set of Nimbus 3001’s for students on any team that come from families who don’t have the funds for a nicer broom.”

            Ron joined the embrace at this point, slowly suffocating their friend. “You’re bloody amazing, Hermione Granger, you know that?” Ron shouted. Hermione tried wiggling her way out of the embrace but found no luck and was stuck in there for what felt like an eternity. Finally she squeaked out how they needed to make it to the Great Hall, as the guests would be arriving. They let her go so they could actually _look_ at the field quickly. A match amongst friends was planned by the time they sauntered back to Hermione, awaiting the return to the castle.

            Hermione was overjoyed to see Harry look so genuinely happy in that moment but began to worry about how he was going to handle being in the spotlight in just a few minutes.

            “Your lip is going to burst open one of these days if you keep gnawing on it like that,” Harry told his friend, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll be okay Hermione—Now that I’m dating the editor of Britain’s _favorite_ newspaper-” Hermione rolled her eyes, “the pap’s aren’t so scary.”

            “’Mione, you reckon we should keep these buttoned up all the way or go down a few?” Ron asked, playing with the buttons of his outrageous shirt. For the first time that night Hermione finally burst out with laughter.

            “You _arseholes!”_ she yelled at them. It was as if the years of trauma the three young adults had endured were wiped away in that moment. For the first time in quite a while Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter were able to joke around without a care in the world. They were still laughing as they made their way back to the castle to meet the guests for the night’s ceremonies.

            ----

            “I am proud to announce that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is fit to open its doors to eager young witches and wizards once more. It has been a long year. One of hardship and mourning on top of moments of beauty and rebuilding,” Kingsley Shacklebot’s deep booming voice told the attendee’s in the Great Hall, “We are all able to stand in this beautiful castle once more thanks to the help of every individual who put time, money, and magic into the rebuilding effort, lead by the brilliant Hermione Granger of the Department of Magical Education. She has poured everything she has into this project and the ministry is incredibly lucky to have her in our ranks.”  
            Hermione blushed bright red as the room began to clap for her, but sat up a little taller. From the time she was a young child, Hermione loved nothing more than praise by those she respected and that wouldn’t change just because she was a war hero.

            “We are not here tonight to weep over those we lost last year. We’ve all done enough of that. Tonight we celebrate the freedom we have gained through the death of Tom Riddle, a sick man who was nothing more than that,” Kingsley clapped his hands and a glass appeared in front of every person in attendance. “To new beginnings, to those we lost, and for those we still have,” his eyes shot kindly to the trio as he took a sip. Everyone followed suit and Hermione was stunned to see Harry down the entire goblet of alcohol in one go. He set it down and watched it refill and downed it once more.

            Hermione sighed but let Harry do what he wanted—this would be Luna’s problem.

            As the night progressed, Hermione was caught in many conversations from friends, politicians and journalists. Mrs. Weasley wept in the young girls arm thanking her for the portrait of Fred Weasley that now hung in the memorial courtyard walkway. Hermione had portraits made of each victim from the battle last year and to no one’s surprise Fred’s tended to jest anyone who walked by and the Weasley Matriarch informed Hermione that she cried the moment Fred commented that her hair was looking greyer than ever before.

            As the night wore on, Hermione’s chest began to ache with worry for Harry. His duel tendencies of getting feisty with reporters on top of his current problem of drinking too much in times of duress created a stress in Hermione that gnawed at her to go find her best friend. However, every time she started her search another ministry employee would corner her into a conversation.

            “It’s really a shame you didn’t stay in our department-“ was the intro to most of these conversations. Hermione was offered a position in nearly every department in the ministry after the war. She had spent some time interning at different departments that tickled her fancy the most and truly had the choice to start her career just about anywhere she wanted. At this moment it was Davey Gudgeon, a member of the Department of Mysteries.

            “I’m stunned you didn’t want to stay in our department,” he told her, with that unusual tone all the Unspeakables had. The one where you couldn’t really tell what emotion it was they were trying to convey. Davey was kind enough, and had been presumably excited about the prospect of Hermione joining the team. “You’re bright and quick on your feet and we could have really used a young mind like yours amongst us.”

            “The prospect of the department was enthralling,” Hermione admitted, “but my passion has always been school and I could really see the difference I could make within Magical Education. Everything within the department of Mysteries is well, a mystery,” Davey laughed in a way that was just loud enough to be awkward, “I couldn’t see where my role would be.”

            Davey looked uncomfortable and a little bit sweaty. Hermione had become accustomed to this sort of behavior, though, and just smiled kindly at him before bidding him a goodnight. Before she could get away he grabbed her arm and had a look of wild determination in his eyes. Hermione was unaccustomed to seeing such an intense emotion written on the face of a Department of Mysteries worker.

            “Well, if you need a favor from the department you let _me know,”_ Davey was unblinking and Hermione was in a state of surprise, “I mean it, Hermione.”

            “Have a good night Mr. Gudgeon.”

            Hermione walked away quickly, a little dazed by the odd turn the conversation took but still intent on finding Harry to ensure he hadn’t drunken himself into oblivion _again._ He wasn’t with Ron as the redhead was sitting with Lavender Brown. Hermione made a mental note to ask Ginny if they were an item again. _Not that it matters_ Hermione reminded herself. In Fact, Hermione would be quite proud of Ron if he were pursuing a relationship with Lavender. She had sustained tremendous injury after the battle. Fenrir Greyback had nearly mauled her and she was found bleeding after the battle. Her face was severely scarred and had similar side effects of lycanthropy that Bill Weasley sustained after his run in with the monster. Even with all the magic in the world, Lavender still needed a cane to help stand and walk at the young age of 19.

            Shaking her head of Ron’s dating life, Hermione looked amongst the crowd for the bright hair of Luna, which she found, but no sight of her best friend. Luna was sitting with her father having an intense discussion on the potential endangerment of Bowtruckles, and the possibility of a cover story on the matter.

            “Luna, where is Harry?”

            “He told me he needed some time alone and I could sense that his head was all fuzzy.”

_Yes, because he’s drunk!_ Hermione counted to five in her head.

            “Luna, do you think you could tell me where you _think_ he is?”

            “I think he’s in a confused place right now.”

            _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

            “But I know that he’s gone off to the old DA room,” she told the frustrated witch. “And I know that he needs to talk to you, Hermione.”

\---

            The Room of Requirement had been destroyed by the fire, and sure enough Hermione found Harry simply sitting slumped looking at the scorched wall—one of the few walls in the building they were unable to fix. A permanent scar for the castle made by magic too dark to revert. Harry was rubbing his own scar and threw his head back, hitting the wall hard enough to make Hermione cringe. Hermione hadn’t seen Harry this drunk in a few months. Since dating Luna the drinking had diminished immensely and seeing her best friend like this reminded Hermione of the first months after the battle, and the depression Harry fell into. He couldn’t stop blaming himself for all of the deaths. He found Sirius’ secret stash of aged fire-whiskey in Grimmauld Place far too quickly for his own good.

            “When will it stop Hermione?” Harry cried.

“When will what stop?”

Harry shuddered. “The voices, Hermione.”

            Panic seized Hermione’s heart and she sank down next to her oldest friend. “Voices, Harry? That can’t be right. He’s dead. We killed him.”

            “Not his voice. The _whispers_.”

            Harry looked up at Hermione with a wild look in his bright green eyes and Hermione felt genuinely frightened for the first time in a year.

            “I know you didn’t hear them because you weren’t there, but the veil spoke to me ‘Mione. Luna heard it too, back in fifth year when we lost Sirius. I don’t know why but every night I hear them while I sleep. I can never remember what they’re saying. Or maybe I just don’t hear them properly. But I have to go back ‘Mione. I have to hear what they’re saying,” He looked at her desperately. “That’s why I wanted you to take that Department of Mysteries job so bad. I need to get in there.”

            Hermione bit her lip, recalling how unenthused Harry had been when she announced that she took a position within the department of Magical Education.

            “What if it’s Sirius? What if he’s trying to talk to me?”

            Hermione sighed. Harry never got the closure he needed with Sirius.

            “Harry we’ve talked about his. Sirius is dead,” her voice broke on the last word.

            Harry set his head on Hermione’s shoulder and Hermione could feel wetness fall down her arm. _Merlin he’s drank too much_ Hermione thought. She hadn’t seen Harry cry since Remus and Tonks’ funeral.

            “I know he’s dead,” he said softly, “but I need this. Isn’t there any perk to saving the world? Can’t I just go see this damn veil one more time? I’ve been able to revisit the spots everyone else has died. But not Sirius’. We didn’t even have a body to bury,” his voice was cracking.

_Well, if you need a favor from the department you let me know_

Hermione heard Davey’s words echo throughout her mind. The timeliness of them was somewhat startling and she was a little questionable about Davey Gudgeon’s intentions but she knew she had to do this. If only for Harry to be able to settle back into a life of normalcy.


	2. Chapter 2

**May 9 th, 1999**

When Hermione owled Davey after the ceremony, she was surprised by the quickness in which the Unspeakable responded. She had informed Harry that the chances of Mr. Gudgeon agreeing to take them into the death chamber were nearly impossible. Even in the short time Hermione had spent with the Unspeakables she had had incredibly limited access to the department and had simply been introduced to a small sample of the studies the Unspeakables were working on.

            By the time Hermione had woken up the next morning there was already a reply waiting for her.

            _Miss. Granger,_

_I’m so pleased you took what I told you to heart about any favors you needed. This upcoming Sunday at 4 o’ clock in the morning I will meet you and Mr. Potter in the lavatory entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Rumor has it Harry Potter possesses a cloak that prevents others from noticing one’s presence._

_I am eager to see the both of you and to help aid whatever problem Harry Potter seems to be having regarding the Death Chamber. Hopefully this visit will perhaps push you towards reconsidering your chosen department._

_Davey Gudgeon_

Hermione was feeling a number of concerns after receiving this response. She was concerned about the amount of secrecy that was going to be involved in this visit to the Ministry and whether or not Mr. Gudgeon was committing a crime by allowing the two into the Death Chamber. After a pleasant ( _awful, full of yelling_ ) conversation with Harry, Hermione finally agreed to go. The more curious side of her did want to see what the whole deal with this veil was after-all. She had never gotten to see it as she had been cursed to unconsciousness while the rest of her friends faced Death Eaters in their fifth year excursion to the ministry.

“We’ve definitely done worse things that were certainly illegal,” Harry mentioned to the brunette as they prepared to leave 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione huffed at him in response.

“I just thought we would be able to settle down and never have to break into the ministry again.”

            “Ron may be content settling into a simple life, but we both know that you and I are _far_ too reckless for that,” Harry told her, poking her in the side.

            “ I’m _Reckless?”_ Hermione screeched at her friend as Luna began wrapping a necklace around Harry’s neck. “What is that?”

            “A family heirloom,” Luna told Hermione as she brushed Harry’s hair with her hands, making it messier rather than trying to flatten it as everyone else always tried to do. “I feel as though Harry needs it more today than I do.”

            “Luna, we’ll be back by the time the sun rises,” Hermione told the witch. Luna smiled dreamily and took Hermione’s hands in her own. Hermione smiled back at the girl. Even though everything about Luna went against the logic Hermione so firmly believed in she loved the girl dearly.

            “It’s kind of funny that we’re meeting Gudgeon at the lavatory entrance,” Harry started as Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him, “you know, because that’s how we broke into the Ministry last time.” Hermione groaned while Harry burst out in laughter.

            Harry grabbed his cloak, gave Luna a kiss on the cheek and called out “You’ll bail us out of Azkaban if this goes like last time, right Luna?” as he walked out the door with Hermione.

            “Your lip is going to bleed, ‘Mione,” Harry interrupted Hermione’s lingering anxiety. “Come on, Kingsley is the minister and Kingsley _loves_ us. What is the worst that could happen?”

            “Nothing good ever comes out of that question when it comes to us, Harry.”

            “Fair point,” He conceded before grinning at his partner in crime, “Let’s go.”

            The two young adults threw the invisibility cloak over themselves, barely fitting underneath it like they used to as children and apparated away.

 ---

            Hermione and Harry had to crouch as they walked in order to keep their feet hidden as they made their way down to the Department of Mysteries. Davey intently pretended they weren’t following behind him, adding to Hermione’s anxiety that they were _most definitely_ breaking the law. To calm her thoughts, she ran through the other law breaking activities she had partaken in that didn’t lead to _complete_ disaster.

            With it being Sunday and before the crack of dawn, there was no one in the ministry as they walked through the building but Davey still looked incredibly anxious—even more so than usual. He had to wipe the sweat off his palms on his trousers about once every two minutes.

When they made it to the Department of Mysteries, Harry’s breathing began to get harder. Knowing Davey wouldn’t approve of them speaking while they were being so secretive, she simply grabbed the young man’s hand.

            As they entered the Department, Hermione noted all the rooms she remembered from her fifth year break-in. As they walked through the time-room she felt remorse for all the time-turners that had been destroyed and wondered if any would ever be created again. She could feel her scars tingling that she had received from Dolohov. While the crew of teenagers had spent a long time trying to make their way through the department, Davey knew exactly where they were going. They were officially past the point that Hermione could recognize and the way Harry was squeezing her hand, Hermione knew that they must be close. Suddenly an alarm went off.

            “ _Shit,”_ Davey cursed, “Take off the cloak, we must be quick.”

            The three of them began to run and Davey was speaking rapidly, “I’m sorry for what you’re about to go through but it must happen, regardless of what the others say. This _has to be it.”_

            Hermione was scared and confused and had no idea what Davey Gudgeon was talking about. She was about to tell Harry they should just turn around when they burst into what must have been the death chamber. It was impossible to hear the alarms going off in this room. It was eerily silent- except for the whispers, of course. Hermione wasn’t sure what she was more scared of; the fact that she could actually hear them or the draw she was feeling towards the curtain. It wrapped around her navel and felt as if a tightly wound string was trying to bring her forward. Just to get a little closer. Just to hear what the voices were saying. She was broken out of the trance by Harry yelling- “I can hear him, Hermione. It’s him! He’s in there!”

            Simultaneously two things happened. Harry sprinted in to the translucent material floating between the arches of the old veil and another wizard entered the room, shooting spells out wildly to stop whatever it was that was happening.

            “Hermione, I’m sorry again. You’re going to see me, I’m not going to know who you are, but make sure you--”

            Hermione barely heard Davey Gudgeon’s shout as she was already running after Harry. There was no hesitation as she jumped into the veil after her best friend. They had been through so much together and she wasn’t going to let him just disappear. She would have followed him into the forest that fateful night a year ago—she had meant what she always said, _we’re in this together_.

            As soon as she entered the whispering stopped. Unfortunately it was replaced by yelling. She was disoriented and had difficulty on focusing on her surroundings. It was as if the voices were wisps of air whipping through her. She was acutely aware of three things, however.

One, there were doors surrounding her and no apparent one that would lead her back where she came from. Two, Harry was walking through a door as soon as Hermione entered. As he walked through, the door disappeared behind him. Three, Sirius Black was certainly one of the voices yelling at her.

It was beyond difficult to focus on anything but she did the best she could to hear what the former Marauder was trying to convey. She made out two of the desperate words: Red. Door. Hermione trusted that voice, no matter how frantic it sounded. The translucent blasts of air made it difficult to see but Hermione could see a bright red door. She was tearing up, between confusion, losing Harry, and the sound of hearing a dead man’s voice that she had cared about. There was something familiar about that door and once again found herself wrapped up in the feeling of being inherently drawn.

Time wasn’t making sense in this room. She couldn’t tell if she was walking for seconds or hours as she trekked towards the door. Voices were shouting and air was pushing at her, but she focused on Sirius and whatever words she could make out of the soothing voice. They were encouraging her. _Yes. Brilliant. Great. You. Hermione. Yes. Yes._

Eventually she was face to face with the door. She looked back once more and saw no other option before her. A small part of her wanted to stay in this room. To find Sirius and help him get out of whatever this existence was.

“Are you okay?” She called out, panic clear in her voice.

The shouting got louder and she could barely hear Sirius’ distinct voice yell _GO._

Hermione listened to the man and opened the door. She couldn’t see what was on the other side and simply jumped into the unknown, going against every rule she had ever set up for herself, hoping that wherever she ended up Harry would be waiting for her on the other side.

Upon opening her eyes Hermione was blinded by a blaring light. Eyes wet from tears and a fuzzy head didn’t s top her from reaching for her wand and pointing it out blindly, back in attack mode for the first time in a year.

“Harry!” she called and she made her way to stand up and angrily wiping the tears on her face away.

“It’s Bill, actually,” a high-pitched voice informed her in excitement.

Slowly Hermione’s vision began to clear and she realized the sun had simply blinded her. She lowered her wand as she took in her shockingly familiar surroundings. The burrow stood in front of her, only smaller. There were two floors less than she had last seen the burrow, but there it was—the unmistakable red front door of the home she had spent so many days of her childhood.

            “Why are you crying?” the small redhead walked a little closer to her. Hermione simply shared at him in pure shock. For one of the first times in her life, Hermione Jean Granger had no idea what was happening or what to do.

            “Do you speak English?” Asked whom Hermione had finally concluded was a very young Bill Weasley.

            She continued to stare at the young child with a look of utter disbelief on her face.

            “WILLIAM ARTHUR WEASLEY!! WHERE DID YOU HIDE YOUR BROTHER?”

            Bill looked at Hermione in a panic and sprinted towards the back shed, where he opened the door to set free a small toddler holding a dragon plush, crying at his big brother.

            Hermione felt like someone had swiftly punched her in the gut and she fell to her knees as she watched Molly Weasley rush outside and swoop Charlie into her arms.

            “Wait until your father gets home—what are you doing? Why are you so jumpy, Bill?”

            The boy pointed his finger in the direction of Hermione, who his mother had failed to notice yet.

            “A lady fell in our yard, mum. I think she can’t speak!”

            Hermione Granger stared at Molly Weasley, noticing how vibrantly red her hair was—no grey in sight. This woman’s eyes were youthful, and hadn’t yet seen the death of her child, hadn’t yet used her wand to kill. These eyes were just as kind as the ones Hermione remembered, though. Molly wasn’t looking at her as though she was a threat to her children—she was just as confused as Hermione was. _Okay, not nearly confused as I am._ Hermione thought, trying to pull herself together.

            “Mrs. Weasley, I know you don’t know me but if you don’t mind me asking,” she paused, wondering how she could possibly start, “Er, what year is it?”

            Bill was excited to learn that this new exciting person could actually speak and yelled “It’s 1975!”

            “Dear, are you okay you’re looking a little-“ Hermione didn’t hear the rest of that question, as she fainted on the spot.


	3. Chapter 3

**June 23 rd, 1975**

When Hermione came to consciousness she felt stares on her. She breathed deeply, trying to calm down her innate sense to fall into defense mode. She reminded herself that regardless of _when_ she was, she knew she was in the home of the Weasley’s and they were some of the most trustworthy people she had ever known in her life.

            “Mummy, she’s up! She’s up!” Bill Weasley yelled, running away to go get his mother out of the kitchen.

            Molly Weasley rushed into the family room where Hermione had been placed on the couch. Bill returned to his spot on the sofa opposite Hermione right next to Charlie who couldn’t stop staring at the girl in complete and utter awe. Hermione sat up and rubbed her head, trying not to panic about the situation she was in again. She needed to say awake, find Harry, and get home.

            “I called Minerva McGonagall over. You look Hogwarts aged and I assumed you were a student there,” Molly explained to Hermione. “Are you from Hogwarts, dear? Do you need to eat?”

            Hermione almost laughed over the quickness in which Mrs. Weasley was trying to shove her cooking onto Hermione.

            “I actually just graduated, but thank you for inviting Minerva over. I could really use her help right now.”

            “What house were you in?” Bill asked before his mother could question Hermione any more. His voice was ripe with suspicion.

            “Gryffindor,” Hermione responded. Bill jumped off the couch and plopped himself right next to Hermione and hugged her and Charlie crawled off his spot on the sofa and beckoned for Hermione to pick him up. Hermione, not being able to resist the adorable toddler, pulled him up onto her lap. She tried ignoring the fact that it was technically her ex-boyfriend’s older brother poised on her life. _This is absurd_.

            “I knew you weren’t evil!” Bill exclaimed.

            Hermione fought off the urge to explain how the house you were in didn’t effect the kind of person you were, but she took she took note of how even Molly looked less stressed after hearing that Hermione had been in the family’s long beloved house.

            A loud crack was heard from outside, and Molly rushed to the door to let in McGonagall. Hermione listened to the conversation the two were having in hushed voices. She couldn’t make out much but heard _Hogwarts Graduate_ and froze as she realized the suspicion Minerva was going to hold the moment she saw Hermione—at this point in time the two had never met one another. Minerva rushed into the room and pointed her wand at the young adult.

            “I’ve never seen this woman in my life,” She informed Molly Weasley, who gasped and rushed to grab her youngest son out of Hermione’s arms and grabbed Bill’s arm to whisk him behind her. Molly’s eyes looked betrayed.

            Hermione stood up and without knowing what else to say told the truth.

            “My name is Hermione Granger. I _am_ a former Hogwarts student. The reason you don’t know who I am is because I left Hogwarts in the year 1997 to fight in a war.”

* * *

 

            “Lemon Drop?” Albus Dumbledore offered the girl. His eyes weren’t telling Hermione what he was thinking as he looked at his future student.

            Hermione accepted one, feeling as though she were eleven years old again and meeting the powerful wizard for the first time. Which she was, in a way. He folded his hands together and chuckled.

            “You can imagine how delicate of a situation this is, Miss. Granger. Your story is compelling but how I am to trust it as truth? You said you were best friends with the son of Lily and James Potter, but as of the last day of this school term, Lily had sent an excellently executed bat-bogey hex at Potter, if I’m permitted to call it such.”

            Hermione knew the dangers of time travel and she knew that she had probably already given too much away. She had to be careful in what she said. The last thing she wanted to do was to create paradoxes that would impact the future. All she wanted was to be sent home, but she knew she also had to divulge some sort of information that would alert Albus Dumbledore to trust her. She sat for a moment, debating what to tell the most powerful man she had ever known.

            “Your brother Aberforth has told me of your past, Professor Dumbledore. I know that Harry Potter loved you deeply. Still loves you despite what we learned about you, Gellert Grindelwald, and your poor sister, Ariana. When you die, you’re going to leave me _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ in your will to me so I can defeat Lord Voldemort. I know that you manipulate those who surround you for the greater good. I know the dark parts of you and yet I’m still here, asking you for help because you’re one of the most brilliant wizards I’ve known in my whole life,” Hermione spoke honestly, and gave as much information as she could without feeling as though she was going to cause a gaping hole in the space-time continuum.

            Albus gazed at the girl for a long time, silent as he contemplated her words.

His eyes looked angry, upset, and finally solemn. Hermione tried to sit as tall as she possibly could, not wanting Dumbledore to try and belittle her words.

            “Miss. Granger, if you don’t mind I need to send out a few owls and straighten out your arrangements so we can find a home for you. I ask that you remain in here until I return. Have as many Lemon Drops as you please. Just don’t feed them to Fawkes please, he’s putting on a little weight.”

* * *

           Hermione looked in the mirror of the infirmary lavatory, inspecting her appearance. She hadn’t taken the time to look at herself in quite a long time. Her eyes were tired. She wondered how long the bags under her eyes had been there and suspected it had been long before landing in this new world. Hermione Granger was twenty years old but felt as though she looked much older. Perhaps that was just how she felt on the inside. Hermione’s childhood was short-lived, as she had to face so much hardship and trauma at a young age alongside her two best friends. That was what she felt most bitter about when thinking of her days at Hogwarts—not being able to enjoy growing up.

            The witch stared at the de-aging potion Albus Dumbledore had informed her to take. While Hermione trusted Dumbledore, she also wouldn’t put it past him to put something that would make her forget her old life within the potion, which she promptly questioned him on. He looked surprised to be accused of such a thing, but certainly didn’t look innocent. She pressed him more and was told “The potion will revert your appearance by a few years, but all of your memories will still be inside your mind,” Hermione continued to stare at the man hard, “I swear by it on Ariana’s grave,” more emotion in Dumbledore’s voice than Hermione had ever heard. Dumbledore had decided that until he was able to find a solution to her present situation, the best option was to de-age her, so as to blend her into society the best that he could for what Hermione presumed would be a short time.

            Hermione chugged the potion and watched in the mirror as her body began to change. It was painful as her bones began to shrink. She frowned as her hair became bushier and sighed as the more womanly aspects began to shrink on her body. The twenty year old was gone and replaced by fifteen-year-old Hermione Granger.

            Hermione closed her eyes and began thinking about Harry, wondering where he was. She ran through the experience that led her to this moment- the Veil, Davey Gudgeon, Hogwarts, the war, her friends, her parents, her cat. Everything was in tact. She was still Hermione Granger.

            A much younger and spry Madame Pomfrey ignored the fact that the girl who walked out the loo looked completely different than the woman who had walked in just a few minutes before. “Headmaster Dumbledore is waiting for you in his office, dear. Do you know the way?”

            Hermione nodded her head and began her walk back to the office. What would be waiting in there for her she was not certain. As Hermione walked through the castle she tried to become accustomed to her new, or rather _old_ , body. She felt so much more awkward being in a body she had been pleased to outgrow the first time around.

            “Bumblebee,” she told the Gargoyle guarding the office, as instructed by the Headmaster to do. She tried to breathe deeply and avoid chewing on her lip with worry as she entered Dumbledore’s office.

            Walking in she seemingly interrupted a conversation between Albus and a woman aged about fifty, if Hermione had to guess. She looked regal, and was donning a pleasant gown that went a little past her knees. Her bright red hair was wrapped up tightly in an elegant bun and she wore an emerald ring upon her hand that stood out to Hermione, and she couldn’t figure out what about the woman seemed so familiar about her. The older woman gazed at the girl with delight.

            “Miss. Granger, I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Dorea Potter,” Dumbledore informed the witch.

            Hermione’s eyes were wide with shock as she suddenly connected the older woman’s face with her best friend’s.

            “Dorea has kindly accepted to take you into her home until we figure out how to get you home,” his eyes had that infamous twinkle in them once more as he stood up. “I’ll let the two of you acquaint yourselves with one another. I need to talk to Horace and come up with an explanation for the urgent de-aging potion I asked of him. Perhaps I can convince him that I was using it for myself,” he rubbed at his beard and left the room.

            Hermione continued to stare at Dorea in shock. This was most Hermione had been left speechless in the span of a day.

            “So where are you from, Hermione?” Dorea asked the witch, remaining upright and somewhat intimidating in her seat.

            Hermione opened her mouth to tell Dorea that she was from the future but was frustrated to find, although not completely surprised, to find that the words simply wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Dorea smirked.

            “I figured he would do this. There was no way Albus Dumbledore would let a time traveller out and about to blabber on about secrets she could have on the old man,” Dorea stood up and approached Hermione. She was quite tall and towered over Hermione. She put a hand on each of the young girl’s cheeks, “I know the basic information Dumbledore felt I deserved to know,” Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Dorea had forced the information out, “and I know that you are best friends with my grandson. That’s enough for me to make you a member of my family.” She took the girl’s hand and led her to the chair she had been previously sitting in and took the chair next to her.

            “By the look on your face, you’ve never seen me before in my life,” She frowned only slightly, “leading me to believe I won’t get to be around for much of my grandson’s life,” Hermione said nothing.

            “Oh, well now I’ll just have to fill you with enough memories so as to pass them on to him whenever Albus figures out how to get you home.”

            Hermione couldn’t believe how quickly Dorea was taking all of this is stride.

            “Will the rest of your family be okay with me staying with all of you?” Hermione asked, hearing her new voice for the first time. She nearly cringed at the how high pitched she sounded. Dorea laughed.

            “Charlus doesn’t know yet, but I’m sure he won’t have an issue with it as he knows how badly I’ve always wanted a daughter. James will be beyond thrilled to have someone his own age around the house to wreak havoc with. Regardless of how they truly feel about the matter, I usually tend to get what I want in this house—the Slytherin in my always prevails,” She told Hermione with a mischievous look in her eyes that Hermione had seen in Harry’s quite a few times. “So let’s create a story for you.”

            “A story?” Hermione asked.

            “Of course, our family is fairly well known and people wouldn’t just believe I’ve been hiding a daughter all of these years. Let’s have some fun with it now, shall we?”

            Hermione smiled at Dorea for the first time. She was just _lovely_.

            I would like to keep the name Hermione if that’s alright,” she told Dorea.

            “It’s a beautiful name and it would be a shame to not keep it. Granger obviously can’t stay though, love. You can’t be a Black either because that lineage is _far_ too documented if you ask me. Hermione Potter has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? The potter lineage isn’t quite so kept track of and it would be unsurprising for there to be a few members to have been lost contact of in the Muggle-World years ago. ”

            Hermione laughed as she had never once in her life imagined picking up Harry’s last name and could hear the jokes the jokes Harry and Ron would crack over it. Thinking of Harry brought Hermione back to reality and she began to worry over where her best friend was.

            “I’m sure Dumbledore will find him, dear.”

            Hermione looked at the older witch in shock.

            “I’m a Black, Hermione. We’re quite well known for our legilimency skills. Dumbledore may have a put a strong block on you, but I can tell your missing my grandson, who I assume is lost somewhere, or rather some _when_ , just like you.

            “What are your parents back home like?” Dorea asked, smiling brightly. 

            Hermione had tried not thinking of her parents in a while. She knew that after the war there would be a slim chance of finding someone who could successfully bring back their memories of their daughter. Hermione had not spoken to them in over two years and they didn’t even remember her existence.

            “I had to obliviate them a few years ago in order to protect them. They don’t even know who I am,” Hermione was surprised she had been allowed to tell Dorea this, but supposed that the knowledge would do nothing to dramatically alter any Voldemort related timelines, which is what Hermione assumed Dumbledore would be most careful in protecting, now that he knew that he was officially defeated in the future.

            Dorea wasn’t the sort of women to show how she was feeling most of the time, perfecting a mask of cool nonchalance throughout her life. In that moment, however, she looked devastated for the girl sitting in front of her.

            “Hermione, I’m sorry for whatever it is you’ve had to face in your life. I have no idea how long it will take for Dumbledore to figure out how to get you home but as long you live under my guardianship you will be well taken care of and you will have _fun_ even if I have to force it on you. You deserve some carefree time as a young witch and on Merlin’s beard I swear you will have just that,” She stood up, holding out her hand to the young girl sitting before her.

            “Thank you for your kindness,” Hermione told Dorea, accepting her hand, still a little dazed over everything that was happening.

            “Let’s get you home,” Dorea told her, walking the two of them to the floo.

            “Potter Manner!” The witch shouted, keeping a tight grip on Hermione as the two women left Hogwarts to return to the large estate, where Hermione would meet the rest of her new temporary family.


	4. Chapter 4

“IT’S A GIRL!” James Potter shouted as Hermione and Dorea stepped out of the floo, pink confetti flying out of his wand. “Wait until dad finds out!”

            Dorea sighed and Hermione stared at what seemed to appear to be an identical twin of her best friend, Harry- Except for the eyes, just like everybody always said. His hair even stood up in the same exact places that Harry’s did.

            _Godric, this is going to be hard_.

            “Hermione, this is my son, James. Charlus should be returning home any minute now, and I better prepare him for the news,” Dorea looked between the teens with a sparkle in her eyes. “James, I’m sure you can show Hermione around the manor. Did you prepare the guest room like I told you to?”

            “Dorea! What’s this about a new child in the home? Is Sirius staying permanently?” An unfamiliar voice yelled from another room.

            Dorea rushed out of the room, leaving Hermione Granger alone with her best friend’s father. Harry was never going to believe her when she told him about this day.

 _If I ever find him, that is_.

            The two stood staring at one another. James was grinning and Hermione was full of emotion as she took in the very much _alive_ James Potter.

            “I’ll show you your room. I took some liberty in decorating it for you, but I’m sure you’ll _love_ it.” James’ energy was so high that Hermione was finding it contagious. As tired as she was from the day, and as stressed as the misplacement of Harry was making her, there was something about this family that was soothing her. As the two made their way through the impressively large Potter manor, James told her the story of his day.

            “I was _so_ bored. Sirius couldn’t come over as he’s being held hostage by his family as usual,” Hermione heart swelled as she heard the name of a familiar face. Perhaps she would get to see Sirius while she was stuck here and be able to share a story of him with Harry. _That would absolutely make his day. “_ And suddenly an owl soared into the kitchen, right into Tinker, our house-elf. She was mighty steamed over it until she saw the letter in its claws was from _Dumbledore_. The letter was addressed to my mum but I may have skimmed through the contents,” He stared at her with a look a mischief.

            “Mum told me I’m not supposed to ask you about your past or where you’re from. That’s fine with me. The only thing I ask is that you promise to ensure I stop being so _bloody bored this summer,”_ he held a hand out to Hermione, a pleading look in his eyes, as if being bored were the worst punishment anyone could ever receive. As confused as Hermione was about her situation, she couldn’t even pretend that James’ begging look wasn’t identical to his future son’s. And everyone knew Hermione couldn’t say no that look. Hermione laughed and stuck her hand out to the boy.

            “I hope to only be here for a few days, but I’ll try to help,” they shook hands.

            “You like Quidditch, right?”

            Hermione groaned. _Like father, like son._

            “We can work on that, Hermione,” he essentially ignored her look of contempt as he opened a door that led into a room filled with colors of bright red and gold.

            Hermione stepped in and was shocked at the amount of detail that was put into the room. _He really must have been bored today_. The room was nearly identical to the way the Gryffindor Common Room was set up, only with a large bed set-up in the middle.

            “I know you said you’re only hoping to be here a few days, but the letter from Dumbledore stated the time of your stay was indefinite,” Hermione frowned, as the headmaster had not told her that, “so I wanted to make you comfortable with your future surroundings because _obviously_ you’ll be sorted into Gryffindor if you’re here long enough.”

            James plopped down in one of the comfy plush chairs Hermione had become familiar with in her own time at Hogwarts and sat down on the bed as she let James drone on about the house he clearly loved so dearly. Hermione sat on her plush bed and almost cried at how comfortable it felt. It was hard to concentrate on James Potter when the bed was beckoning her to lie down and close her eyes. James didn’t seem to notice Hermione’s yawns and began to explain the other houses to her, blatantly bias in his opinion of each of them.

            “The Slytherin’s are all scum-“

            “What was that?” A voice asked, with venom hidden in it as Dorea stepped into the room.

            “Except for my wonderful and beautiful mother who somehow escaped the snake pit, and who is the best person to ever leave that house,” James told his mother, batting his eyes. Dorea shot a look at her son, unfazed by his complimentary words.

            “What did I tell you about using magic in the house?” She asked him, crossing her arms as she took in the set-up of the room.

            “Only to use it in the ‘most urgent of cases’ and this was _clearly an urgent case,_ mother,” the raven-haired boy stated, waving his arms in the direction of Hermione. Dorea smirked at her son and then smiled kindly at the young witch.

            “I brought you this sleeping draught but it’s clear you don’t need it,” Hermione took note of the vial Dorea held in her hand. “James, how long have you been keeping her up? She’s had a long day.”

            James only looked mildly embarrassed.

            Dorea walked up to Hermione and in a move that stunned the girl she kissed her forehead. Hermione’s cheeks blushed bright red and James chimed in “She does it every single night- beware.”

            Hermione was still taken aback but Dorea looked completely unembarrassed about her display of affection. “I will do that until I’m too old to bend,” she told James trying to reach out for him but he ran out of the room.

            “See you in the morning, Hermione! Great chatting you! I’ll tell you more about Hogwarts then.”

            Dorea laughed and then set the draught on the nightstand next to the bed.

            “Charlus is absolutely delighted to hear about your stay here. He can’t wait to meet you in the morning. If you need that,” she pointed at the draught, “I’ve found it excellent for extinguishing the possibility of dreams, good or bad. Goodnight Hermione,” and Dorea left the room and shut the door.

            Before Hermione could even consider the thought of taking the draught, unconsciousness claimed her mind and body and she fell asleep oddly comfortable despite the experiences she had had that day.

* * *

 

            As Hermione began to wake up she felt better rested than she had in months. She was so comfortable that she was nearly able to convince herself that the memories of the past day swirling in her head were simply all works of her imagination that she had conjured in her sleep.

            Unfortunately, opening her eyes completely disrupted this train of thought. Hermione Granger was stuck in the year 1975 and was currently staying in the home of Harry Potter’s Grandparents. Looking around the room, she found clothing sitting on the dresser. Looking at her own clothes, she realized she was wearing the same outfit she had worn to the Department of Mysteries yesterday morning. She had worn what she typically would wear to work, so as not to stand out too much if they were caught wandering the ministry at such an odd time. It was far too loose for the body she now possessed.

            She stretched and then stood to don the new clothes Dorea had presumably gotten her. It was a simple grey dress that Hermione would have never picked out for herself. It would show off far too many of her scars. Hermione opened up the drawers and was happy to find a few more outfits. She kept the simple dress on but put a sweater on overtop of it, covering the majority of her physical scars of the past, which unfortunately had not vanished with her de-aging.

            Hermione stuck her wand in her pocket, pleasantly surprised to find that it was already magically enlarged to be able to hold it, and made her way out of the bedroom, worrying about how she was going to find anyone in this large of a home.

            Her worries turned to dust as she found James sitting on the wall right outside her bedroom door. He jumped up and blushed bright red. “I promise it’s not weird! Mum told me to wait here. She told me she wanted to make sure you could find your way to the kitchen but I think my presence really pestered her so she sent me away to leave her alone. I was _just_ trying to figure out where you came from, but she told me all I needed to know was that you are here _now_ and that’s all that matters,” He was talking incredibly fast and his hands were stuffed in his pockets- a nervous habit he would later pass on to his son.

            “And while I hate _not_ knowing things, it’s _fine,”_ he sounded half convinced on this. “I’m just excited to get to know you,” He looked at Hermione earnestly. Hermione smiled at James.

            James continued their conversation from last night telling Hermione about Hogwarts as they made their way to the kitchen. The Potter manor was _huge_. The scents wafting from the kitchen could be smelled all the way through the house, and Hermione’s stomach growled angrily. James laughed and said “Tinker and mum have been slaving over breakfast all morning.”

            Hermione refrained from launching into her S.P.E.W. speech.

 _Goodness I really_ am _fifteen again._

            As Hermione and James entered the dining room Charlus was pacing around the table, muttering to himself.

            “Dad’s a bit…quirky,” James whispered to Hermione, clearly loud enough for Charlus Potter to hear.

            His head snapped up and he grinned in excitement and nervousness at the new guest in their home, “She’s awake, dear!” he shouted into the kitchen.

            “Lovely. Breakfast is nearly ready!”

            Charlus rushed over and stuck his hand out to Hermione and quickly told her “We are so excited for you to be joining us, Hermione!” Charlus was a shorter man, certainly smaller than Dorea and had a big mustache. The ability to grow hair on the face clearly wasn’t passed down to his son or grandson as far as Hermione knew. He had the trademark Potter hair- though it was peppered with grey. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet and pulled a chair back for Hermione to sit in.

            “We thought we could discuss all of the details of you living here over a wonderful breakfast,” he told Hermione as she sat down in the chair he offered. James snagged the spot across from her, leaving the two chairs at the head of the table to his parents.

            Dorea came into the room, and gave Charlus a kiss on the cheek before wishing Hermione a “Good Morning, dear.”

            Everyone became situated in their seat as Tinker, the petite, older looking family house-elf began setting up plates and magically carrying the meal through the air and placing it upon the table. James stuck his hand out for some sausage but Tinker snapped her fingers and James pulled his hand away as though he were shocked.

            “Damn it, Tinker! I’m a growing boy!”

            “Language,” Dorea chimed.

            “Miss. Tinker wants Miss. Hermione to try her hard work first, Mr. James. Mrs. Potter told Tinker she could do whatever Tinker wants to Mr. James when he goes against Tinker’s wishes,” Hermione laughed, and was pleasantly surprised by the autonomy the house-elf seemed to be granted by the Potter family.

            Charlus looked delighted to see Hermione laugh in the face of his son’s look of disappointment. “You heard Tinker. Please help yourself, Hermione,” Charlus said.

            Hermione’s stomach growled loudly again, and the Potter family politely ignored it. After filling her plate Tinker clicked her tongue in upset.

            “Tinker thinks that Miss. Hermione needs to eat more,” and snapped her fingers. Hermione’s plate’s contents nearly doubled and James’ newly loaded plate’s contents disappeared.

            “This is a blatant show of _sexism_ ,” James shouted in outrage. Dorea and Charlus ignored him.

            “Did you sleep well last night, Hermione?” Dorea asked. Hermione nodded her head.

            “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Hermione told them. “And thank you for the clothes.”

            Dorea waved her hand and informed her it wasn’t an issue at all. “Of course, we will take a trip to Diagon Ally to pick you up some more personal clothes. And to buy you what you’ll need for Hogwarts.”

            “I wasn’t under the impression I would be here for that long,” Hermione cut in. A stretch of silence followed her words. “I- I’m sorry that was rude wasn’t it?”

            “Not at all, dear,” Dorea told the girl, her brow furrowed. “With your, well, circumstances of arrival, Dumbledore thinks it will be some deal of time before he is able to arrange a way for you to go home.”   
            James had stopped eating and was staring at the three other members of the table trying to piece together the pieces of Hermione he didn’t understand.

            “I really don’t want to inconvenience-“

            “No inconvenience to us at all, Hermione,” Charlus interrupted her kindly. “As I said before we are absolutely delighted to have you here with our family. In fact-“ he started to speak a little more quickly, “we are fully intent on truly adopting you into our family, whenever it is you are ready. We know you don’t even know us yet, and we don’t really know you, but we want to help you as much as we can knowing what we do about your circumstances.”

            _That was fast_. Hermione was panicking. She was not ready to commit to a new family and a new life. She needed to focus on finding a way home, and more importantly, finding her way back to Harry. The anxiety rolling off of Hermione was palpable to everyone in the room and Charlus was looking quite embarrassed.

            “As Charlus said,” Dorea broke the tension in the room, “we will wait as long as you need us to. And we will never expect you to call us your mum or dad, or James your brother. Though we will care for you as if you _are_ our own,” she smiled kindly. “It will make things logistically easier to have paperwork calling you our own. If you can’t get back home right away, it will be easier to integrate you into the public world if we formally adopt you, rather than hide you away, and thus make your transition back into schooling easier.”

            “Our family is a little famous,” James said proudly. “Mum perfected a sleeping draught that ensures you won’t dream at all when you sleep at night.”

            Hermione’s jaw dropped open. She had been using that exact potion ever since the end of the war. Nightmares were far too present without the potion’s aid. James was grinning proudly at his mum. Dorea too stood tall in her seat, proud of her accomplishments. Hermione had had no idea that Harry Potter’s grandmother had created the potion. She had no idea that she had been a Potioneer.

            “Dad just works in the Improper Use of Magic department,” James told Hermione.

            “ _Just?_ ” Charlus asked, amusement laced in his voice, “You know I could have you expelled and arrested for all the magic you used yesterday transfiguring that bedroom.”

            “It was an _urgent case_!”

            “James would last three hours in Azkaban,” Dorea laughed. Nobody noticed Hermione’s frown, as she thought of all the years Sirius Black had spent in the prison. James cheeks burned bright, and he turned the conversation away from himself.

            “So which school do you go to Hermione?”

            Hermione shot a panicked look at Dorea.

            “Hermione has attended Beauxbaton’s for the past four years,” then the older woman sent Hermione an apologetic look before announcing “and now we must tell you what happened to her family, for her to end up with us.”

            James paled, but also leaned in closer to his mother. Dorea looked Hermione in the eyes as she told the story. Hermione knew that whatever she was about to say was going to be her cover story from this moment forward.

            “Hermione is a cousin who was lost in the family tree many years ago when the Potter’s went through a distasteful blood supremacy phase,” she grimaced and Hermione could sense that this part of the story was true. “Hermione’s descendants were removed from the Potter lineage and haven’t been well kept track of. Her parents were squibs that moved from England in order for Hermione to start at a fresh new school in France when they discovered she had magical powers,” Her voice darkened as she turned away from Hermione and told James “her parents were murdered by dark wizards, who have been gaining in power, after learning the status of her parents. Hermione was able to escape the attack.”

            James looked over at Hermione and appeared absolutely devastated to hear about her backstory. Hermione was amazed at what a damn good liar Dorea Black Potter was. Hermione would have believed the story if it weren’t about her.

            “Hermione has had hardships that you can’t imagine, James.” This much was true, at least.

            The table was silent and Hermione felt very uncomfortable. She was stuck twenty years in the past, she was in the body of her fifteen year old self, having dinner with people she had only ever known as dead- who wanted to adopt her- and she missed Harry. More than anything Hermione Granger was struck by the fact that she was back in a time where Tom Riddle was still alive. She had already lived through the terror of his reign once, and she was not prepared to live through it again. She looked at the face of James, who looked truly heartbroken over the news of what his mother had just told him and it took everything within Hermione to not burst into tears on the spot—knowing what was going to happen to him in just a few years.

           


	5. Chapter 5

**June 24 th, 1975**

Shortly after breakfast Dorea and Charlus left for work. As Hermione exited the kitchen she heard Charlus instruct James to “leave the poor girl alone”. Hermione did not like being in a position of powerlessness and when she found her way back into her bedroom she locked herself in and found a journal in one of the drawers. She began to write-

            _Harry and I apparated from Number 12 Grimmauld Place at 3:45 in the morning on May 9 th, 1999 to meet Davey Gudgeon at the Lavatory Entrance of the Ministry of Magic. _

            She continued to write all of the details that led to her landing on the yard of the burrow. She included as many details as she possibly could. She found, however, that when she tried to mention meeting Davey at the re-opening of Hogwarts ceremony, her hand physically stopped her from writing about it.

            _Too big of a spoiler, I suppose._ Hermione groaned in frustration.

            Hermione may be at a loss over how in the world The Veil connected to time travel, but at least she had all of the details straightened out to help her in her journey to finding the answers.

            _I need a library!_

            Hermione assumed that with a house as large, and with occupants as intelligent as Dorea and Charlus, there had to be a private library _somewhere_. Her thoughts were interrupted by something colliding with her door. She jumped and instinctively reached for her wand. She closed her eyes and counted to five, breathing deeply.

            When she opened the door she found nobody waiting for her, but rather an injured paper crane, struggling to fly. Hermione hesitantly reached for the creature and the moment she grasped it, the paper unfolded and revealed a note.

            _Hermione,_

 _Tinker refuses to feed me unless you join me. Help me out, please. I’m not asking you to be my sister—only a friend. Not to brag or anything, I’m quite extraordinary at being friends with people with some_ wild _back-stories._

_I hope you remember the way to the kitchen—I’m too faint to move! Tinker is trying to starve me, I tell you!_

_James Charlus Potter_

            Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous note. She frowned slightly at the mention of friends with troubled lives, knowing he was alluding to Sirius and Remus. While Hermione’s plan for the rest of the day was to isolate herself until she could find solutions to her situation, she felt it would be rude to blatantly ignore James’ request. Plus, if she spent some time with James she could ask where the library was, and perhaps borrow an Owl to send a letter to Dumbledore.

            “Tinker, pleeeeeeaaaaaaaaasssseeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” James was slumped in a chair in the dining room.

_This is more pathetic than Ron in a state of hunger._

Tinker ignored the boy and continued to dust behind vases and portraits around the room.

Hermione coughed in an attempt to announce her presence into the room. James’ head popped up and his eyes lit up with pure joy.

            “Tinker!” He stood up, “Tinker! Hermione is hungry too!”

In a matter of minutes, Tinker prepared a delectable soup as well as a simple fish sandwich. Hermione never thought she would meet someone who could annihilate a plate of food quite as thoroughly as Ronald Weasley, but James Potter was certainly giving him a run for his Galleons.

“Ready for a match?” James asked the moment he finished his meal.

Hermione turned away from James and thanked Tinker for the meal.

James poked Hermione’s arm and asked again “Quidditch Match?”

“Mr. Potter has not thanked Miss. Tinker for the meal yet!” Tinker cut in. Hermione smiled broadly at the elf.

“I’m sorry, Tinker! Thank you for finally ending my starvation,” he turned back to Hermione, “you can even use my comet!”

“I don’t fly,” Hermione said firmly. James frowned dramatically.

“I can teach you!”

“I know _how_ to I just don’t _like_ to.”

James stared at Hermione pleadingly, giving her _the look._ The stupid Potter look, but even Harry knew that it wouldn’t work when it came to flying. Hermione had had more than enough unpleasant experiences flying through the sky and quite liked being on her own two feet much better. Hermione crossed her arms and looked at James with a bored expression on her face while he continued to beg with his eyes.

Hermione won the staring contest and James finally huffed in exasperation before exclaiming “Fine! But you _must_ like chess, right?”

Hermione smiled at him and shook her head, before remembering that she still needed to conduct research.

“Do you mind if I borrow an Owl first?” James looked confused but led her to his room anyway.

“This is Sirius’ room, and this is mine,” James announced. The two bedrooms were right next to each other. Hermione was surprised to know that Sirius Black had his very own bedroom in the Potter home. “Sirius is here so often that mum and dad decided to just let him claim an area for himself. You’ll hopefully get to meet him soon. Maybe _he’ll_ convince you to fly with us. He claims he can get a witch to do any-“ James blushed and stopped speaking.

            “Anyways,” he stammered out, “this is _my superior_ room.” He opened the door and Hermione was unsurprised to see it was decorated nearly identical to the way he had set up her own room. James Potter was undoubtedly a proud Gryffindor. He ran over to the window and shouted “Gretchy!”

A large snowy white owl with some beautiful light brown markings along her wings soared into the room and landed on a perch.

“Gretchen, this is Hermione. Hermione this is Gretchen,” He walked over to the ink and paper he had stored on his very cluttered desk and handed it to Hermione. “I have to write to my mates anyways.”

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_I have been informed that you plan on me staying in this time longer than I had expected. I would like to reiterate how important it is for me to return home, as I would hate to disrupt anything within the timeline of my world._

_If you’d like to discuss it further, I am available at any time. I will also help contribute to any research I can_.

_All the best,_

_Hermione_

Hermione had spent a few minutes debating what to put as her surname. She knew that in this time she was supposed to go as a Potter, but she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. In the end she just decided to stick with her first name. She sealed the letter up and passed it to James.

When he finished up his own letter he attached both to Gretchen.

“Blimey, _Dumbledore?”_ James exclaimed as he realized who Hermione’s letter was addressed to. “Mine is just for Sirius, Gretch.”

The owl stretched her wings and then took off. The two teens watched her soar off Potter Estate to deliver their messages.

Hermione turned away from window and took in the bedroom of James Potter once more. Beside his bed she spotted a photograph. She walked over to it and examined the bright, happy faces in the photo. Four boys that Hermione had grown up hearing stories about, whose legacy included an invisibility cloak and a magical map that had fueled her own mischief at Hogwarts. It was recent, as James looked nearly identical to the present. He had his arms around two other boys, and they were all laughing. Hermione’s heart swelled as she took in the face of Sirius Black barking with that unmistakable laugh of his. Remus, on Sirius’ other side was blushing bright red and looked embarrassed. Hermione’s stomach lurched as she looked at the young face of Peter Pettigrew.

He was lankier than she had ever seen him, but Hermione was most surprised to see how genuinely happy he looked. She had never seen that joy from the man she had known. Hermione couldn’t look away. She didn’t even listen to James as he described who each of them were, as her thoughts were on fire.

_How am I going to be composed when I see them?_

Eventually an awkward silence fell and Hermione realized it was her turn to contribute to the conversation.

“It’ll be quite something to meet them, James,” Hermione said, giving a small smile to the boy next to her. He lit up and then pointed to a passing red head in the background. He didn’t need to say it out loud for Hermione to know who that was, but of course he did anyways.

“That’s Lily Evans,” his voice had a tenderness to it that Hermione was not expecting. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“She looks as though she’s storming away from you,” Hermione pointed out

“Oh yeah,” some of the tenderness left his voice, “That’s because I sent a hex at _Snape_ that may or may not have sent his trousers to the ground.”

Hermione pursed her lips at James, mostly to hide the laugh that almost escaped her. On one hand, that was clearly James bullying her former professor. On the other, Severus Snape wasn’t exactly the kindest teacher Hermione Granger had ever had, and the image James’ story had procured in Hermione’s mind was nearly revenge for at least a few of the times Snape had been an absolute arse to her growing up.

“He’s an awful, terrible, _Slytherin,_ Hermione!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and reminded James that his mother was in Slytherin with a wry smile.

“Don’t you tell her I said that!” James exclaimed.

“I won’t if you beat me in this game of chess.”

James was a stronger contender than Hermione had suspected. Harry never quite had the attention span nor logical thinking skills needed for the magical game. Hermione had grown up playing with her parents but had stopped for a while after the traumatic game they played in their first year, leaving Ron unconscious. Eventually, though, Hermione had found herself playing again with friends throughout her school years. Where Harry lacked in his ability to think further than the next step, James clearly _thrived_. The last time Hermione had played someone with the capacity to beat her was years ago, before the trio had even left for the war. Remus was actually the last person to beat her in a game of chess on a quiet day at the Burrow.

 _Damn it all if I let another Marauder beat me_.

They were playing the best of three. James had sneakily wont the first game and Hermione utterly destroyed the poor boy in the second, after being so riled up over a loss. The two had now garnered an audience in their third and final game of the evening. Charlus and Dorea had returned from work and were enthralled by the game happening before them. Dorea had poured two glasses of deep red wine and the older couple watched the teens continuously try to outsmart each other.

“I do love when James plays chess, it’s one of the only times he’s quiet,” Dorea laughed.

Chuckling, Charlus added “and Hermione seems to be a much better opponent than Sirius.”

Neither James nor Hermione were paying much mind to the spectator comments as they were both quite determined to win. James moved a rook, inciting a power move. If Hermione used her Queen to take it, a mere pawn would then take her Queen and that would simply not do. She also couldn’t leave the King in a powerless position. She sighed in frustration and unthinkingly, pushed up the arms of her sleeves, as she was starting to get a little hot.

James’ eyes widened in shock and he turned incredibly pale.

“WHO IN THE BLOODY HELL DID THAT?” James sounded outraged, and a little bit scared.

Hermione looked down and panicked.

_Damn it!_

            Hermione had forgotten that in this time period no one would be used to the scar that marked her as _mudblood_. No amount of magic or research or _anything_ could get rid of it.

            Dorea had paled and Charlus had pulled James out of the room. He was in a terrible upset.

            “Who did this to you?” Hermione could tell that Dorea was trying her hardest to stay unaffected, but there was an edge to her voice.

            Of course, Hermione’s throat blocked off the answer. Dorea swore under her breath.

            “This is some awful _black_ magic, and don’t think I don’t understand that there could be a double meaning to those words, for those to have stuck on through even a potion de-aging you” She held Hermione’s arm, looking at the scar with intense pity. Hermione pulled away. She was tired of being pitied today.

            “I used to glamour them, but I eventually realized I was tired of hiding what I went through.”

            “’Them?’” Dorea’s voice gained a little more edge. Hermione sensed that if she had the ability to tell her who gave her the scars, Dorea would end up in Azkaban.

            Hermione shook her head and pulled the sweater off, leaving her in just a tank top. The purple scars that wrapped around her chest and climbed up to her shoulders and right at the edge of her neck.

            “I’m not ashamed of them,” Hermione clarified. “I just don’t want more reactions like _that_ ” she alluded to James, “while I’m here, so I suppose I’ll have to go back to hiding them with magic.”

            “Let me help.”

            Hermione almost cried as Dorea Potter picked up her wand and gently helped Hermione disillusion the scars over her body. No one had ever helped her do so before, and Hermione had always seen it as her own personal burden to bear. If you looked very closely you could start to focus in on the scars, as they would never truly be able to disappear, but Hermione was lucky enough to not be the kind of person who was stared at for too long in the first place, and she would have to be extra careful of her outfit choices.

            Hermione put the sweater back on and thanked Dorea. Dorea shocked Hermione once more by kissing her forehead like she did last night.

            “There is nothing to thank me for, Hermione. I am so happy to have you here. You’ll be kept safe here. I’m sorry for James’ reaction.”

            “It’s alright. I know that they’re quite unpleasant,” she wrinkled her nose and then found herself overtaken by a yawn. “Thank you again, but I’m going to head to bed now if that’s alright.”

            When Hermione returned to her room she looked at the sleeping draught next to her table. She wasn’t quite as exhausted as she had been yesterday and knew that James’ reaction to the scars may trigger a response to her unconscious, which she certainly did not want to deal with tonight.

Right as Hermione finished the potion, she heard something crash into her door again.

 _He needs to work on his aim_.

She grumpily crawled out of her bed and found ten paper cranes struggling to hold up a sandwich with a note attached to it.

            _I’m sorry about earlier. I’m not exactly great at hiding my emotions. To make up for it: here is some dinner. I’ll kill the bastards who did that to you if you ever tell me their names._

_Anyways, I didn’t want you to think this lets you off the hook for our game earlier—I was about to win and I would like to formally do so._

_See you in the morning._

_James_


	6. Chapter 6

July 26thth, 1975

_Hermione,_

_I am working on your concerns. Until further notice, I ask that you enjoy your time here with the Potter family. Not everyone has quite the second chance in life that you have been granted._

_I hear Charlus makes excellent cherry rhubarb crisp!_

_Sincerely,_

_Albus_

            A month had gone by since Hermione had gotten this letter from her former headmaster and she was just as frustrated now as had been when she first received it. Hermione had desperately searched through the (beautiful, magnificent, everything she could have dreamed of) Potter library for anything on the topic of time-travel, but she couldn’t find anything.

            Hermione had been hopeful that Dumbledore would find a way to send her home in a timely manner but those hopes were smashed by a different letter she received at breakfast a few days ago-

            _Dear Miss. Hermione,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your acceptance is based upon a transfer status and you will begin your studies with peers your own age in their fifth years._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

            Hermione had stared at the letter for a few moments before abruptly leaving the table and heading outside to clear her head. She walked angrily though the garden Charlus spent his free time working on—she had even helped him last week re-plant the lilies. She threw herself down on a bench across from the lilies and tried to will her eyes not to shed any tears. She looked down at the Hogwarts acceptance letter and felt as though it was a life sentence within this new world.

            Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted- “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

            She looked up and found Charlus settling down in the bench next to her. He was looking down at his hands with a sad expression on his face, twiddling his thumbs together.

            “It’s okay Mr. Potter-“

            “Charlus, Hermione. You don’t have to call me Mr. Potter.”

            “Charlus… why are you sorry? It is certainly not your fault I’m stuck here. If anything, I’m incredibly sorry for putting you in this position to take care of me.”

            Charlus sighed and looked down at Hermione earnestly.

            “That’s just the thing, Hermione. We’re sorry that we’re honestly _happy_ to have you here. If you had to leave already we would miss you dearly. We’ve all come to care about you deeply. Dorea has always wanted another lady in the house for as long as I can remember. As you can probably tell, Dorea and I aren’t quite the youngest parents you’ve ever met.”

            This was true as both Dorea and Charlus were in their late fifties.

“I won’t bore you with the details but James was a bit of sheer magic for us,” He smiled kindly, “and we knew we could never have another. And now you’ve come along and well,” Charlus stopped and simply patted Hermione’s hand.

            The young witch looked up at Charlus and felt incredibly conflicted. Hermione did not want to be here. She wanted to be back home and with her friends. She wanted to find Harry and she wanted to be an adult again. But she wasn’t leaving any time soon. As she looked up at Charlus she noted, not for the first time, how Harry might have Lily’s piercing green eyes but the shape obviously came from Charlus. They were kind and had that ability to render you to their will simply through their earnestness. 

            “It’s not as though I could leave you, yet” Hermione began, “we still have to plant those irises,” she pointed towards an empty area a few meters from the lilies. Charlus beamed.

            _If I have to be here, these are the people I want in my life_.

            “And someone will need to keep James in his place at Hogwarts,” she sighed, before uttering in the most confident voice she could muster “I suppose I’m ready to become a Potter. Officially.”

 

* * *

 

            “Hermione, you got a letter?” James called out as he collected the morning’s mail the next day.

            Dorea, Charlus, and Hermione all looked at James in confusion.

            _Who would possibly write to me?_

            “It’s from the Weasley family? Weird. Hermione why would the Weasley-“

            Hermione cut him off as she plucked the letter from his hands and opened it to find the familiar handwriting of Molly. She smiled.

            _Hermione,_

 _I just showed Arthur the announcement in the_ Prophet _of your adoption into the Potter family. I am so very happy that things have sorted out since the last time I saw you._

_Bill has not stopped talking about you since the day you stumbled into our Burrow and I was wondering if you would be willing to watch him and Charlie tonight? My brothers have injured their selves (they will be okay after I yell at them!) and Arthur and I must attend to them._

_Sincerely,_

_Molly Weasley_

Dorea had read the letter over Hermione and squeezed the young girls shoulders. “I’m not quite sure how you know the Weasley family, Hermione, but I do know they’re one of the good ones. The Black’s would hate that my newly adopted daughter watches over the Weasley’s children,” she nearly giggled and she turned towards James. “You’ll help Hermione, of course, James.”

The wizard sputtered out a response in outrage—“But Sirius is coming over! I haven’t seen him all break!” Dorea nearly cackled with joy in response.

“He has a younger brother, he’s familiar with watching out for others.”

“Yeah, an _evil younger brother_!”

Hermione bit her lip to hide the emotion she felt in reference to the infamous R.A.B.

“Then the two sweet, children should be an absolute _breeze_ ,” Dorea smiled a winning smile. “Charlus, dear, remind me to invite the Weasley’s to the party.” Charlus nodded his head in submissive admiration of his wife.

“A party? Where is my invite?” A new voice called. James looked like a puppy that had just been awarded his favorite toy.

“Sirius!” he burst out of his seat and ran towards to the living room, where the floo was.

Hermione had gasped when she heard that voice. Dorea had turned towards Hermione and leaned down to whisper “Have you had the honor of meeting our Sirius yet?” Hermione simply nodded, overwhelmed with emotion. Dorea grinned once more.

“We’re throwing a party to celebrate the inclusion of Hermione into the family,” James re-entered the dining room with his best friend in tow. James began bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“Hermione, I am pleased to introduce you to Sirius from the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black!” James announced in his most formal voice. Sirius rolled his eyes. “Sirius, this is Hermione. Hermione Almost-Potter.”

Sirius looked as though he had about a thousand questions but he pushed them away and stepped towards the witch, bowed foolishly, landing on one knee, grabbed Hermione’s hands and exclaimed “Ah, The witch of the hour!” and kissed her hand.

Hermione was in a state of complete shock and she couldn’t look away from Sirius’ eyes. She would have never known how much light had been stolen from them by his years in Azkaban if it weren’t for this moment. Sirius had always been a larger-than-life person but this…. this was an entirely new man, or well, boy.

His hair was shorter than she had ever known it, falling right around his ears. He was much shorter, and even had some baby-fat he hadn’t quite shaken on his face. But that smile was the same smile she knew and loved.

 _Godrick this is hard_.

“Oi!” James shouted. “Don’t _flirt_ with my almost-sister!” He smacked Sirius upside the head.

“I’m simply saying _hello_ ,” Sirius groaned as he rubbed where James had hit. Before standing up he shot a wink at Hermione’s still shocked face.

“I _explicitly_ told you not to flirt with Hermione in my last letter,” James was outraged.

“I was _not flirting_.”

“You kissed her hands!”

“That’s how I greet everyone now.”

“Oh really, you didn’t greet me like-“

Sirius grabbed the annoyed wizard hands and gave each a slobbery kiss. James shouted in disgust.

Sirius spun around towards the only real parental figures he had ever known and before he could grab Charlus’s hands the older wizard interrupted him with a half laugh and shouted gruffly “No need for that, son. How about Diagon Alley, hm?”

* * *

 

            “Are you ready, dear?” Dorea asked, wrapping an arm around Hermione as they headed outdoors to prepare for Apparition.

“Yes, actually,” Hermione informed the older witch. She hadn’t left Potter Manor since she had first come to the home. Now that Hermione had come to accept that she was going to be stuck in this world for longer than she had expected, she was going to get to know it.

Dorea linked arms with Sirius and James as Charlus linked up with Hermione and within a moment the Potter Mansion was deserted, except for Tinker who waved them off.

Hermione had never quite enjoyed the feeling of apparition, especially after all the times she had had to use it during her year on the run. When they popped into the apparition point of Diagon Ally, Hermione had to take a few moments to regain the feeling of steadiness and wait for the nausea to fade away. Charlus kept a steady hold on her until she opened her eyes and smiled softly at the older Potter who patted her arm before letting her go.

“Never used apparition before?” Sirius asked her. Hermione almost laughed in his face, but remembered her backstory of “squib parents” and informed him that it was in fact her very first time.

“And I got to be a part of your first time!” Sirius exclaimed in delight. James choked and stared at his best friend in disbelief. Dorea sighed.

“Well, Charlus and I must go to the bank to discuss Hermione’s addition to our accounts,” she gave a pointed look at the two boys in front of her “you two are to show Hermione around and gather all the supplies you’ll need for school. No mischief.”

James and Sirius both laughed and Hermione hid a smile.

“Minimum mischief, at the very least,” Dorea compromised before turning to Hermione with a pleading look, “please keep them in line.” She hooked her arm though her husband’s and the two left the three fifteen year olds alone.

Without wasting a moment of unsupervised time, Sirius turned towards Hermione and blurted out “So where in Merlin’s beard do you come from?”

James punched his friend in the arm and looked ready to hex him. “You don’t have to tell him anything, Hermione.”

Sirius ignored James’ clear frustration.

“It’s just, once James let me know his cousin was being adopted by his parents I looked into the Black family tree and couldn’t find a single trace of you. So I suppose you are a Potter.” He looked her up and down, “Though you certainly don’t look like a Potter. Which leaves the question of what happened to your parents.” James gasped in anger at his friend’s blunt line of questioning.

Hermione was both shocked at how rapidly Sirius was asking her such personal questions, but also unsurprised, as Sirius had never shied away from personal conversations. She looked straight back at him and informed him “My parents are gone.” She thought of her own parents, who she missed dearly but also knew were better off in the life they lived now. The last time she had checked on their life in Australia she found that they had opened up their own dentistry office.

Sirius could see the depth of sadness in her eyes, but did not apologize to her, for which she was grateful.

“How come your parents don’t let you leave their house?” She shot back at him with what she knew was an equally personal question. James’ attention was diverted from the anger he felt for Sirius being rude to Hermione and was now angry that Hermione asked Sirius such a rude question. His face was contorted with confusion on which side to take. But Sirius didn’t look angry over the personal question and rather smiled once again.

“They’re evil and think the more time I spend with this git,” he elbowed James, “I won’t end up anything like them.”

James forgot his frustration with both Sirius and Hermione as his own curiosity got the best of him and asked, “How did you manage to escape this time?”

“Well I told you I would come over today so I needed to figure out a way to get Walburga so mad at me that she’d let me disappear,” his eyes lit up and Hermione was once again taken aback by the life in those strikingly grey eyes. James listened to every word and Hermione found herself eager to hear how the Marauder had made it out of the dreaded grasp of Walburga for the day. “So she was lovingly stroking Regulus’ hair and telling him about all the pretty girls they were going to line up to court him soon and I asked her when my courtships would start lining up. Well she literally _hissed at me_ and I felt bad for Regulus because she nearly ripped his hair out as she yelled about how I was disappointing our family name more and more each passing minute of every single day and whatnot,” he smiled smugly. Hermione smiled back at him, entranced by his ease of telling stories.

“Well Walburga calmed herself down and told me that if I really wanted to take this whole courtship seriously I needed to straighten up my act and started mentioning some of the potential families who might _possibly_ consider me. Then she looked as if she was actually considering possibilities. She brought up _Narcissa_ ,” he turned towards Hermione with disgust on his face, “ _My first cousin._ Well that’s when I saw my chance to escape. I turned towards Walburga and casually mentioned how Narcissa probably wouldn’t appreciate a marriage with me after hearing about the Muggle Girl I shagged last year.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open and James yelled, “That never happened!”

Sirius winked at Hermione and wrapped his arms around the two listeners and laughed loudly.

“Yeah well it was either a story about a fake Muggle girl or I was going to tell her I shagged you, James. But you’re my escape house so I had to stick with the other story as I’m sure Walburga would have sent Mum a howler. So she nearly stunned herself in her anger and disappointment and as she started throwing hexes at me I jumped in the floo, which I had secretly unlocked earlier, and disappeared. ” James gagged out loud, hung up on Sirius’ alternate story and Hermione laughed harder than she had since landing in this strange new world. James stopped walking and stared at Hermione in shock this time.

“I’ve never made you laugh this hard!”

This only made Hermione laugh harder and she nearly doubled over in her cackling. _Harry was going to love this story_. The thought of Harry sent a pang of sadness to her heart that stopped the laughter, but she still had a huge grin on her face as she continued to walk along with her newfound friends, who were heading straight towards the Quidditch shop.

* * *

 

            When the group returned to Potter Manor Hermione had been absolutely exhausted by all of the shopping she had completed that day. Hermione had felt terribly guilty for all the school supplies Dorea and Charlus had purchased for her and expressed that she was willing to do whatever she needed to around the house to make up for it.

            “Hermione, from now on you are to remember that we are treating you as though you are our own child. Stop worrying so much,” she smiled kindly at the young girl, “Oh dear, you’re going to chew that lip right off aren’t, you.” Hermione stopped chewing her lip with a a blush of embarrassment. 

            Dorea clasped her hands around Hermione’s and looked at her with all the sincerity in the world laced in her eyes, “You’re about to be our official daughter, and I want you to know that although you have not been in our lives for long we are overjoyed about getting to know you more. Your name has been added to our family vault and as long as Charlus and I are around, you will be well taken care of.” Hermione felt Charlus put a hand upon her shoulder and squeeze. Hermione wanted to cry again.

 _Being fifteen again makes me so damn hormonal_.

            She grabbed each of their hands and thanked them.

            Dorea looked as though she wanted to tear up as well but shook it away and called for the boys to come down, “It’s time for you to head to the Weasley’s!”

            “Where am I going?” Sirius questioned.

            Dorea sent a glare towards her son for obviously forgetting to tell Sirius what the three teens were going to do for the night. James shrugged indifferently “I’d hoped you’d forget you signed me on to this bloody task.”

            “Language,” she reminded her son.

            “Yeah, you heard mum, watch your bloody language,” Sirius reminded James.

            Dorea sighed and turned towards the young Black, “You’re going to help Hermione babysit the Weasley children. It would drive Walburga absolutely _mad_ ,” Dorea smirked.

            “Sounds brilliant. Let’s go!”

            James groaned in defeat as Dorea led the trio towards the fireplace and asked Hermione what name to call into it.

            Hermione smiled and grabbed some powder, “The Burrow!”

When they all stepped out Hermione thought she was looking at Bill Weasley prior to his attack by Fenrir Greyback. He sat up from the table and eagerly rushed to meet Dorea. He looked her up in down and seemed nervous by how well dressed the woman in his small kitchen was.

            “I’m Dorea Potter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weasley,” she sent him her loveliest smile and stuck her hand out. “This is my son James and his best friend Sirius Black-“

            Arthur’s eyes widened.

            “The Black that got sorted into Gryffindor,” Dorea beamed with pride and Mr. Weasley stuck his hand out to meet the Potter Matriarch’s. “And this of course is-“

            “HERMIE!!!!!” A young redhead sprinted into the room and wrapped himself around the young witch’s leg in excitement, nearly knocking her down.

            “Hermie!” Sirius shouted in just as much excitement and threw himself at Hermione and wrapped a hug around her.

            “To Hermie,” James cheered, coming up behind her in an embrace as well. A moment later Charlie stumbled into the room and tottered his way to the other side of her leg.

            Arthur chuckled, “thank you all so much for coming in. Molly’s brothers just turned 17 today and immediately went wild with apparition and each splinched themselves. Molly’s already at St. Mungos,” he looked down at his watch, “she might now just be done yelling at them, and so it’s the perfect time for me to head over.”

            “Before you go, I wanted to give you this,” Dorea passed the invitation to Hermione’s formal introduction to the Potter family and Arthur thanked the older witch kindly before leading her to the floo. Dorea bid farewell to each of her children before leaving. Arthur turned back around to the group who was still hugging one another and chuckled.

            “Molly and I shouldn’t be too late. They’re well fed, so you don’t need to worry about that. Bedtime is at 9. Thank you so much again.”

            The moment Arthur stepped into the floo and vanished, Bill let go of Hermione’s leg and began running around her in circles shouting in excitement.

            “Dad’s gone! Dad’s gone! Mum’s gone too!”

            Charlie plopped down on the ground and clapped his hands and giggled. James and Sirius finally let go of Hermione and looked at her to take charge of the situation.

            “Will you teach me magic?!” the young child nearly screamed.

            “Of course not!”

            “Of course!” Sirius and Hermione exclaimed at the exact same time.

            Bill turned towards Sirius with giant eyes and began jumping up and down.

            “ Are you serious? Can I play with your wand?”

            Sirius knelt down to Bill and stuck out his hand.

            “I am Sirius, and I can’t give you my wand but I can teach you some wand-less magic.

            “I’m William Weasley. But I just like Bill” the little boy’s small hand met Sirius’s.

            “Okay, Billiam,” Bill giggled, “in order to do this, I’m going to need you to bring me your very favorite toy and sit down on the couch over there,” he pointed into the other room. “And to keep our friend Hermie calm, we’re going to stop yelling, alright?”

            Bill nodded his head and ran away to go grab a toy.

            Hermione was shocked at how quickly Sirius had gotten Bill to calm down. She was even more surprised at the way in which he interacted with Bill. Hermione had had a fairly limited experience with children, only ever spending a prolonged time with little Teddy Lupin. Ron and Harry always poked fun at the witch for the way in which her voice would raise nearly an octave anytime she interacted with a small child with a feigned fake cheerfulness. Sirius, on the other hand, treated Bill just as he treated every other person Hermione had seen him interact with, and she was a little jealous at how easily he was able to communicate with Bill. Hermione’s inexperience with children seriously paled in comparison to James’, it appeared, though. She held back laughter as she watched James sitting criss-crossed on the floor of the kitchen seemingly having a staring contest with the toddler on the ground. James reached out and poked the baby’s chubby cheeks. Charlie grabbed the hand and bit James lightly.

            James cried out in outrage, “he bit my finger, the little monster!” Charlie laughed as James ran away from the toddler in fear.

            Hermione swept Charlie into her arms and cooed “good job, Charlie. Don’t let that mean boy poke those sweet little cheeks.”

            Sirius and James stared at the girl with mirth on their faces. Hermione blushed bright red, realizing how embarrassingly high her voice had gotten. She cleared her throat and carried Charlie into the other room to meet his brother who had just plopped himself on the couch, ready for the lesson Sirius was going to impart upon him. James came into the room and sat next to Hermione, side-eyeing Charlie as Sirius took the attention of the children. He knelt down to Bill’s eye level.

            “Alright, Billiam. Close your eyes.” Bill listened immediately, and was squirming with excitement. “Alright. Think about something that makes you happy.”

            Bill thought for a few moments before announcing “dinner. Dinner makes me happy.”

            “Hm. Think of something even _happier_. Maybe something good that happened recently.”

            “I was really happy when Hermie landed in our yard,” he said, quietly.

            Hermione’s eyes widened in nervousness as both James and Sirius turned towards her in confusion. She avidly avoided their gaze, though she could feel both of their stares like they were burning her. After a few moments, Bill interrupted the moment.

            “I was happy because Hermie was pretty and nice and I always wanted a sister.”

            Sirius turned back towards the child, before giving one last questioning look towards the witch, and found Bill looking impatient, and now had one eye back open.

            “Close those eyes again, buddy. Okay, now think about that feeling you felt that day. Where do you feel it?”

            “In my hands and my toes and here,” he pointed at his chest excitedly. Sirius smiled kindly.

            “Wonderful. When I tell you to open your eyes, I’m going to be holding your stuffed wolf-“

            “Wolfie.”

            “Yes, Wolfie. And you’re going direct all that happiness you feel straight at him, okay? Three, two, one, open!”

            Bill opened his eyes and stared at his beloved Wolfie as hard as he could and within a few moments the plush toy was floating out of Sirius’ hands and ended up right above his head. Charlie clapped his hands happily again and this time Hermione and James followed suit. Bill was so shocked that he was able to do it that he lost focus and the animal fell to the ground. Before he could get upset that it fell, Sirius pulled the boy off the couch and faced him towards James, Hermione, and Charlie and he motioned the group to keep clapping from behind the young boy’s back.

            “Take a bow, Billiam Weasley! Your audience _loves_ you!”

            Bill’s smile was ginormous as he took a clumsy bow. He turned around and hugged Sirius. Sirius grinned and told him, “If your mummy asks where you learned how to do this, you’re going to tell her ‘Hermie taught me! Sound good?’”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**August 2 nd, 1975**

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, shaking, as she didn’t want to leave her bedroom. Tinker the house elf was trying to magically flatten the young witch’s hair into a semblance of tame, but by the sound of her constant muttering under her breath, Hermione knew the elf was struggling.

“Tinker, allow me to take over,” The elf sighed with relief and took a step back as Dorea began playing with Hermione’s mane of hair.

“I like the curls,” Dorea told her as she patted Hermione’s head. She pointed her wand at the hair and simply tied it up in an elegant bun, leaving some strands to grace either side of her face. She smiled and squeezed the girl’s shoulders. Hermione smiled up at Dorea, in the hopes that it would hide the anxiety radiating off of her. Dorea, of course, saw right through her.

“There is no need to be nervous, but I understand.”

Hermione looked up at the elder Potter and frowned, biting her lip, saying nothing.

“Tell me about your parents, love. What were they like?”

Hermione looked up at Dorea in surprise. She hadn’t mentioned her past life since moving in. Dorea continued to look at her with kind eyes, and an encouraging smile.

“They were Muggles. They were both dentists—they took care of people’s teeth,” she clarified, upon Dorea’s inquisitive glance. “They both embraced _what_ I was from the start. They always knew there was something off about me,” she smiled, remembering how relieved they both were when Minerva showed up to her home to explain Hogwarts to them.

“Even though they didn’t quite understand everything, they loved to hear about my friends and my classes. Hogwarts was the first place I ever made friends. Eventually, I had to stop telling them about my life. I didn’t want to scare them, Vol-“ she choked, unable to finish the phrase _Voldemort was rising in power_. Too big of a spoiler. Dorea reached her hand out and wiped away the tears that Hermione hadn’t even noticed falling.

“Charlus and I will never replace them, Hermione. We don’t want to. Dumbledore may have prohibited us from knowing all of the details but I do know this: You have lived much too difficult a life. I do not know what is coming, though I have an inkling,” her eyes darkened, “and it scares me, but Charlus and I want you to be safe and happy. You will never have to Obliviate us to keep us safe, because we’re here to keep _you_ safe. You don’t ever have to call us mum and dad,” she stroked her cheek, “but you’re always welcome to as well. We will be whatever you need us to be.”

            Hermione choked on a sob. _Damn hormones._

            “The bonding ceremony will only work tonight if you truly want to be a part of the Potter family. If you don’t, I can most certainly send everyone home. This is all _your choice._ ”

            Hermione took a few deep breaths and looked up to Dorea, who she had already come to love over the summer. Having lost her real family, her friends had truly become her family and Harry had always been like a brother. She knew he would get a good laugh out of her becoming an official Potter if she ever saw him again.

            “ _When_ you see him again, my dear,” Dorea said kindly, taking Hermione’s hands in her own, smirking as Hermione stared at her in surprise, having forgotten the older witch’s skill in Occulemency. “Now, are you ready?”

            Hermione nodded her head, and the two walked out of her bedroom, hands still together as they entered the Potter Great Hall.

* * *

 

            The ceremony itself was private, which Hermione was incredibly grateful for. Albus Dumbledore committed the bonding, as it legally had to be performed by a member of the Wizengamot. Charlus and Dorea didn’t simply want to _legally_ make Hermione their daughter, but they were willing to dive in to _magically_ making her a member of the family.

            The family sat around their dining room table, with Albus standing above them, that familiar twinkle shining brightly. His hands were clasped as he giddily exclaimed, “I haven’t been able to do a piece of old magic like this in quite some time. Shall we begin?” The Potters and Hermione all shook their heads. “This is the unpleasant part, stretch out your hands, please.”

            Dorea stuck her hand out without any hesitation, followed by Charlus. James grinned at Hermione, grabbed her hand, and pulled both hands towards the adults. Staring at their open palms Albus took his wand and intently focused on the hands as he slowly and gently drew it down. As his wand moved, each witch and wizard’s hand slowly sliced open. Hermione sent a pitiful look towards James as he winced at the feel of the spell. As drops of blood began to fill each individual’s palms, Dumbledore flicked his wand, muttering what sounded like an incredibly old incantation to Hermione. She was mesmerized by the way the drops of blood floated to meet one another in the air in front of them.

            “Each of you needs to state your intention, followed by the binding spell- _Viculum Familia,”_ Albus stated, not taking his eyes away from the dancing blood drops. Hermione wondered whether he could see any difference between the Potter’s pure blood and her own _muddy_ blood. She almost scoffed at the thought, but was interrupted by Charlus clearing his throat.

            “I, Charlus Ignotus Potter, vow to treat Hermione as though she is my own. The moment she appeared in our lives I knew that we were a little more full than we used to be,” he smiled at Hermione, and she looked back at him with gratitude. “As the sole recorded Patriarch of the Potter family, I intend to bring Hermione into our family through blood and magic. _Viculum Familia_ ”

            “Just as my husband said, I intend to fill Hermione’s life with love and happiness. I welcome her as a daughter—she is more brilliant than I could have ever dreamed of, and she challenges James,” she winked at the teens. “I, Dorea Black Potter intend to accept Hermione into all aspects of my familial blood and magic. _Viculum Familia_ ”

            “I, James Charlus Potter intend to treat Hermione like a big brother should treat his wonderful newly found fifteen year old sister,” Hermionescoffed, “and as the heir to the Potter family I gladly invite her to join me through blood and magic. _Viculum Familia_.”

            The three Potters turned their heads to face Hermione, excitement on all of their faces. Hermione looked at each of them and felt as though she could cry again over how quickly they had come to accept her as a part of their lives. She took a deep breath in. This is where everything would change.

            “I, Hermione Granger, graciously accept the Potter’s intentions. I vow to love and protect them,” the word _protect_ got caught in her throat as she looked at James, suddenly reminded of the future. She counted down from five in her head and breathed deeply. “I vow to love and protect them _as much as I can_. Through blood and magic, I wish to become a part of this family.”

            As she was speaking the blood droplets had begun to spin around in a beautiful dance. Dumbledore’s eyes were twinkling harder than she had ever seen them. Hermione gathered as much confidence as she could to call out “ _Viculum Familia_.”

            The moment the words left her lips the blood drops in the air began to collide and swirl together.

            “As a member of the Wizengamot I find all parties involved had pure intentions in accepting one another as family.”

            He pointed his wand at the combined pool of blood and muttered some more incantations under his breath as blood returned to each family member. Hermione was fascinated as the blood went to the cut on her hand seeped back into the skin, healing the wound once it was gone, except for a thin silver scar. She stared up at Dumbledore questioningly.

            “Unfortunately, you’ll each always have that scar, as blood magic always leaves it’s mark—a reminder of its great power.”

            Hermione looked back down at her hand and closed her eyes. She tried to see if she felt any different. For the most part she felt the same, all except for a different hum in her magic. She had the urge to work some spells, to see if there was any difference. James was looking down at his scar with a smile on his face. Dorea was as well and announced “Well, that was a whole lot more pleasant than bringing _you_ into this family!” She shot a daring look at James. James gaped at his mother.

            “Don’t talk about my _birth_ in _public_ , mother.”

            Dorea simply laughed.

            “Charlus please tell you’ve made some of that delightful rhubarb crisp?” Albus called, breaking the moment.

* * *

 

 

            The Potter’s ballroom was exceptionally beautiful, with three full chandeliers gracing the ceiling, luminescing their lights on the marble floors that reflected the night sky, much like Hogwart’s own ceiling. Despite all of this, Hermione was currently hiding in a coat closet, thankful for the few moments of isolation she had found for herself.

            There were just so many people eager to engage the young witch in conversations that she was not prepared to have. _Where did you come from? Why are you here? What house do you hope to be sorted in?_

“Uh, Hermione?”

Hermione jumped at the sound of James’ voice.

“Why are you in a closet?”

“Erm, Bill wanted to play a game.”

“Is that why you’re crying, too?” James’ voice sounded nervous.

Hermione bit her lip, wiped the tears from her eyes.

_Hermione had been in a conversation with one of Dorea’s friends from work when a new group arrived via the floo. Two teenagers stepped out first clasping hands with one another, followed by a couple of adults and an older woman Hermione vaguely recognized, though much younger than she had ever seen the women, but with the same silly hat that had donned the top of Severus Snape’s head in her third year during Professor Lupin’s Boggart lesson. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the faces of who she assumed were Frank and Alice Longbottom._

_She finished her conversation with the witch in front of her as quickly as she could and observed as James and Sirius went to go greet their friends. James looked over to his new sister’s direction and waved her over. Hermione felt as though she were going to throw up. James looked at her in deep concern._

_Before Hermione could_ actually _throw up_ , _she felt a tug on her leg._

_“Hermie, I’m bored. Want to play a game?”_

            So now she was in a closet, crying, as James pointed out. When she didn’t answer her new brother, she heard some shuffling and suddenly the young wizard was plopped down next to her, his wand tip glowing as he looked at her with such a thoughtful expression on his face that Hermione began to cry even more.

            “I know why you’re upset, Hermione.” Hermione looked at him with surprise. “When you saw Sirius and I saying hi to Frank and Alice, did you miss your own friends?”

            _Actually I’m crying because I know your friends in the future and all of their lives end terribly, and so does yours!_ She huffed in frustration, knowing that she obviously couldn’t share that information- even if she wanted to.

            “Tell me about them,” James pushed kindly. Hermione angrily wiped the tears away and looked up at her new brother. His hair was sticking up, and she absentmindedly tried pushing it down.

            “My best friend is named Harry,” Hermione was surprised she was allowed to share this information. “He’s your-“ _son._ Her throat shut as she tried to get the word out. She cleared her throat and continued, “He reminds me very much of you. He was like my brother.”

            James smiled at her and wrapped an arm around her.

            “Where is he now?” His voice sounded nervous, as though he didn’t want to hear the answer.

            “He’s missing,” Hermione simply said, frowning, and laying her head against James’ shoulder.

            “Who is missing? Me? From whatever is happening in this coat closet?”

            Hermione jumped as James laughed and called out “Come on in, mate!”

            Sirius plopped himself down on the other side of Hermione, a bottle in his hand. Hermione’s eyes narrowed, as she smelled his alcohol laced breath.

            “What? It’s a _party_ ,” he yelped as Hermione slapped his shoulder.

            “You’re _fifteen!”_

 _“_ As are _we_ , Hermione,” James reached over and grabbed the bottle out of his best friend’s hands and took a big gulp. “This is what being fifteen is _all about_ ,” He stretched the bottle out to her.

            Hermione closed her eyes and thought back to her first time being fifteen. For her, being fifteen was _all about_ protecting Harry from Death Eaters, prophecies, examinations, Toad-Faced evil professors, and preparing for war.

            The words of Dumbledore’s last letter to her rang through her head— _Not everyone has quite the second chance in life that you have been granted_. Without thinking any further she snatched the bottle out of James’ hands and took a small sip. Sirius looked shocked and James cheered.

            “There better be a good reason my children are hiding in a closet.”

            All three teens eyes widened in fear at the voice of Dorea. Hermione threw the bottle at Sirius who threw it at James who threw it at Hermione who ducked, allowing the bottle to fly past her and land at the feet of the Potter family matriarch.

            “ _Sirius Black”_ She hissed _._

“Yes, beloved mother?”

            Dorea hissed again and then sighed.

            “I’m going to ignore the cheap bottle of fire-whisky lying at my feet for the sake of my lovely new daughter. The Black’s are here-“ Hermione felt Sirius physically stiffen, “the _good_ ones,” Dorea clarified from outside. “Ensure all three of you are presentable and bring Hermione out to meet everyone.” She kicked the bottle and groaned, before walking away.

            “Ready to meet the only non-crazy members of mum’s family?” James asked Hermione excitedly.

            “Oi. We’ve all still got the classic Black Madness streak within us, we just choose to use it for good,” Sirius smirked. He then grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her forward with him out of the coat closet. Hermione focused on not blushing at Sirius threading his fingers through hers and grabbed James’ collar, pulling him with them as well. Sirius pouted when he saw the whiskey spilled and picked up the bottle, handing it to Hermione. “You’ll need this more than me.” 

* * *

 

            Hermione was thankful for the gift Sirius had given her, as she was feeling warm and pleasant, rather than absurdly disoriented, as she reached her arms out to hold a two-year-old Tonks out of Andromeda’s arms.

            “She has the gift of Metamorph, so she might shift a bit in your arms,” the woman, who could have been twins with her younger sister, if not for the kindness written plainly on her face, informed Hermione. Currently the toddler in her arms hair was a bright pink, but when she looked up at Hermione the hair shifted into curls that matched perfectly. Hermione smiled, remembering Teddy doing something similar just a few months ago.

            Sirius put his head on his cousin’s shoulder and she reached her hand up to stroke his hair. Sirius smiled, and Hermione was once again struck by how much happier this Sirius was, and how clearly he loved having some semblance of a family to be proud of. The peaceful look on his face was shattered when Andromeda lowered her hand and pinched his ear.

            “ _What the bloody hell-“_

 _“_ You’re mother sent us a howler last week accusing of housing you in your _runaway_! Nymphadora cried for _bloody hours_!” Ted Tonks looked the other way as his wife inflicted pain on Sirius. After of few more moments of Sirius shrieking, she went back to stroking his head and sweetly saying “But I do love it when you rebel that awful wench.”

            “Wench!” Nymphadora squealed in Hermione’s arms. Ted Tonks tried not to laugh as he pulled the young one out of Hermione’s arms and walked her away from the vulgar Black’s.

            While Andromenda kept interchangeably praising and reprimanding Sirius, Hermione took in the rest of the room.

            Charlus was in a conversation with the Longbottom clan, with James chatting with Alice and Frank. Hermione didn’t quite have the courage to face them yet. Molly and Arthur looked to be trying to get out of a lengthy conversation they had been stuck in with Arthur’s uncle Septimus, along with his wife, Cedrella Black. Cedrella was Dorea’s cousin and could talk your ear off more than a person struck by a blabbering jinx, according to Sirius.

            Dorea was sitting at a table with two men Hermione had never seen before, but both seemed distinctly _Black_. They looked deep in conversation, and as if sensing Hermione’s stare, Dorea waved the girl over.

            “Hermione, this Alphard and Marius. Marius is my brother and got blasted off the tree simply for being my brother and refusing to stop talking to me. Alphard is still on the tree, but has a soft spot for us Black rebels,” she winked at Hermione.

            Alphard didn’t smile at Hermione but did reach his hand out to hers. Hermione shook it and introduced herself. She held her hand out to Marius next.

            “The three of us were just betting what house you’ll end up in.”

            “What’s the verdict?” Hermione asked. As if they were summoned, Hermione felt the presence of Sirius and James on either side of her.

            “Hermione is going to be in Gryffindor with us, Mum,” James politely informed the group.

            “Heart of a lion!” Sirius exclaimed.

            “I don’t know, she seems to have the eyes of a Slytherin,” Alphard noted. Sirius clasped his chest as though his uncle offended _him_.

            “Hermione has most certainly got the brains of a Ravenclaw,” Dorea noted.

            “Hufflepuff could use a bright, cunning mind,” Marius said gently. Dorea snorted with laughter and took another sip of her wine. Hermione raised her brow at this Black family member she had never seen nor heard of before.

            “Uncle Marius is probably the only Black to be sorted into Hufflepuff in the entire history of the house,” James explained to Hermione.

            “And my _beloved_ nephew Sirius is the only one to end up in the ridiculous house of Gryffindor, much to chagrin of his mother and my poor ears,” he glared at the young Black. “Your mother sent me a howler, accusing me of-“

            “Housing me in my grand runaway?” Sirius finished for him. Alphard sent a hard stare at the boy.

            “I’ve promised Walburga to bring you home, kicking and screaming if I have to.”

            “ _This_ is my home! Not that shithole called Grimmauld place” Sirius pouted.

            Dorea beckoned for Sirius to sit next to her and pet his head soothingly. It appeared Sirius had trained all the witches in his life to do that for him.

            “Grimmauld place has been the home for generations of Blacks. Not all of them have been nearly so unpleasant as your mother. You know you’re always welcome at Potter Manor, but you’re underage and must return to Walburga, love." Sirius whimpered. "You are the heir of the house and could build it back to one that’s truly noble.”

            Sirius looked stiff and more upset than Hermione had seen him since entering this new time. He closed his eyes and abruptly stood up. He marched over to his cousin Andromeda, taking the glass of champagne out of her hand quickly before downing the whole glass.

            No one dared to stop him and Hermione squeezed her brother’s hand for comfort.


	8. Chapter 8

**August 31 st, 1975**

“I just think they deserve freedom like anyone else!” Hermione said through gritted teeth.

            “Tinker,” Dorea knelt down to the level of the House Elf who was glaring at Hermione, with her thin arms crossed. “Would you like to be given a piece of clothing?”

            Hermione had come to learn that Tinker was not the kind of elf who cried, but she looked the closest Hermione had seen her towards shedding tears in her time here.

            “Tinker loves her family,” Tinker hissed at Hermione. “Tinker is a good elf. She protects her Mistress since Mistress was born. Now I protect Mistress’ family. Do you not _want_ Tinker?”

            Hermione groaned.

            “Tinker, this family would fall apart without you,” Dorea gently reminded the elf.

            “Tinker knows this,” the elf said proudly, still glaring at Hermione.

            “Tinker, I just think you deserve a wage and a choice in the work you do!”

            Tinker looked absolutely scandalized at Hermione’s insinuation of being paid. She nearly shrieked, “Tinker does not clean young master’s room! I do not like him to grow up lazy!” 

            Dorea had to hold the House Elf back from Hermione. Hermione rubbed her temples and quietly apologized to the elf.

            “I promise I won’t try to trick you with clothing again, Tinker,” The young witch muttered under her breath.

            Tinker smiled broadly at Hermione and hugged her knee briefly before snapping her fingers and disappearing from the room.

            “I’m sorry,” she turned towards Dorea, and looked down, unable to meet her gaze. Dorea laughed and simply sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for Hermione to join her.

            “Now why did you try to free my elf?” Dorea asked pleasantly.

            “I just don’t think it’s fair that they’re forced into service work.”

            Dorea’s eyes widened and she grabbed Hermione’s hands.

            “Hermione, House Elf’s aren’t forced into their work. They choose it. They must commit to a new master, and they have the power to make that commitment. They can’t be forced into servitude,” she frowned, “Unfortunately, the Masters hold the sole power to end it. That’s where the problem comes in. I promise we would never mistreat Tinker or exploit her work. Sometimes she goes to Hogwarts to visit those she knows working in the kitchens and she has full reign of what she does and does not want to do.”

            Hermione furrowed her brow; surprised no one had ever told her this piece of information before.

            “It’s just I know an elf who-“ Hermione was unable to finish the sentence. Hermione threw her head into her hands and groaned in frustration. She was so tired of not being able to communicate fully with her new family. Dorea rubbed Hermione’s back.

            “You’ve been tense this last week,” Dorea commented. “Stressed about tomorrow?”

 _Tomorrow._ The day Hermione would begin her fifth year at Hogwarts for the second time in her life.

            “What were you like at your last school?” Hermione looked up and Dorea winked at her.

            “I was…” Hermione bit her lip. “Perhaps a little overeager in my classes—but I had to be. I wanted to prove myself because I’m a-“

            “Pureblood, now” Dorea finished the sentence for her. “You’re also one of the most brilliant witches I’ve ever encountered, regardless of any blood status. With that said, you need not try so hard at this school—not only because you know all of the material already, but you have no expectations to rise above here.”

            Hermione frowned, still not quite used to this new identity—although she was enjoying it. Since the bonding ceremony with the Potters she had loved the new feeling her magic had. There was power in different spells she hadn’t felt before, due to the combination of the Black and Potter blood now within her.

            “I want you to have fun this school year, and to keep my boys out of trouble.”

            Hermione smirked and told Dorea “I got in _quite_ a bit of trouble with my friends.”

            Dorea laughed and before she could respond the two women heard Charlus and James returned form Diagon Alley, where James needed to pick up some new broom polish before heading off tomorrow.

            Charlus strolled through the room and pulled out a bouquet of dark chocolate roses for his wife and kissed her cheek. Dorea didn’t blush, but she did pull her husband in for a kiss on the lips, causing Hermione to blush.

            “Ahem!” James coughed from the doorway in which he was sticking out only his head. Charlus took a seat and held his wife’s hand as James slowly walked into the kitchen, clearly holding something behind his back. Hermione was instantly suspicious.

            “I know you’re nervous about tomorrow, and even though I know you’ll obviously be in Gryffindor, I can’t just run into your room all the time anymore. I also know you miss your friend—Harry,” Hermione’s heart panged as she looked at her new brother, who was speaking very fast through his excitement. “So, erm-“ from behind his back he whipped out a teeny kitten “This is Harry the Kitten. Obviously he’s not meant to replace your—“

            Before James could finish his heartfelt speech, Hermione had snatched the kitten out of his arms and was cooing at the creature as though it were a newborn child.

            “Oh, James you shouldn’t have.”

            “I can take him back, if you’d like.”

            The hiss Hermione gave in response to James trying to take the kitten back from her was similar to Tinker’s earlier.

            “He’s perfect,” Hermione declared—and he really was. He was a small black kitten with bright green eyes; Harry, truly.

            “Thank you so much, James. I can’t tell you how much I thank you,” and before she could stop herself she threw an arm around the fifteen-year-old boy and kissed his cheek “I love it.”

            “I love you too, Hermione,” James said, before stiffening in her arms and stuttering, ”I mean, I love, uh, Harry. I love the cat!”

            “Well, he’s mine,” Hermione pulled away, cradling the kitten in her arms before smiling at James and telling him “and I love you, as well James. Regardless of the circumstances that brought me here, I I’m happy to be here with all of you.” James grinned back at her and Hermione’s face was warming up. “How about one last game of chess before heading off tomorrow?”

            James ran out of the room to set up the game and Dorea and Charlus were beaming at Hermione. With Harry the Kitten in her arms, she turned towards her adoptive father and thanked him before heading to meet James for what was sure to be a grueling game.

 

* * *

 

            Platform 9 ¾ looked just the same as it did the last time Hermione had been there, right after finishing her sixth year. The energy was much different this time, however. Dumbledore had just died at the wand of Severus Snape, and the ride home was filled with anxiety and digging through books trying to decipher whom “R.A.B” was. Now laughter was everywhere and a palpable excitement hung in the air. Hermione let out a sigh of relief. A storm was coming, but as of right now she could board the Hogwarts Express without the thought of needing to save Harry from dark creatures, wizards and witches being at the forefront of her mind.

            Charlus was pushing along the children’s luggage and Dorea was desperately trying to pat James’ hair down in a futile effort, Hermione very much knew. Hermione barely noticed the many people staring at her, having grown accustomed to it throughout her life in her choice of friendship. James, however, clearly noticed the difference and was strutting as the family made their way towards a compartment. Hermione had to physically stifle her laughter as he puffed his chest out, showing off the prefect badge he had received in the mail a few weeks ago, to the delight of the entire family.

            _“Evans is going to scream!” He had yelled, pure joy in his voice._

“Mum! Dad!” Hermione turned towards the voice of Sirius, who was running towards the Potter family. Hermione sighed in relief, for he hadn’t written to James since he had been brought back to Grimmauld place for the remainder of the summer. Even though she logically _knew_ that Sirius was okay, she couldn’t help feeling anxiety for the young boy whose presence she had enjoyed having around in the mansion. Sirius hugged each of the Potters and Charlus held the boys shoulders and asked “You okay, son?”

            Sirius simply nodded his head before spinning around to hug James. Hermione smiled, enjoying the way in which the two boys unashamedly showed affection towards one another despite the odd looks of parents nearby.

            “I had a _bloody_ awful end of the summer but I’m so glad to see you. And _you!”_ and suddenly Hermione was enveloped in a hug just as a ferocious as the one James had just received from the young boy. Sirius pulled back and sniffed the air, before peering over Hermione’s shoulder, taking note of the small cat hissing at him from inside its cage.

            “Harry, be nice!” Hermione cooed at the cat.

            Sirius stared at James and whispered at him “A _cat_ , James?”

            “You’ll get along like cats and dogs, I’m sure.”

            Sirius pushed his best friend and the two began faux fighting, in the midst of the platform. Hermione had heard their whispers and suddenly remembered that each of these boys were, or were about to become, animagus. A new wave of admiration rolled over her as she looked at her brother and Sirius, understanding the vast difficulty involved in the process. Hermione noted to herself to figure out exactly where they were in the process.

            “ _Sirius Orion Black,_ You are the _heir_ of House _Black.”_

            Hermione cringed at the voice she had only ever heard screaming at the top of its lungs in a portrait—typically slurs directed at the Muggle born girl.

            Walburga was not screaming here, although her voice was low and icy. Sirius immediately stopped fighting and turned towards the women with a blank face. Sirius’ mother turned to face Dorea and smiled, although Hermione could see no kindness in her eyes.

            “Dorea,” the woman said in a flat tone, “How nice that you’ve collected a daughter, after all your failed attempts.” Walburga’s grey eyes, the same shade as Sirius’, raked over Hermione.

            “ _Cousin_ Walburga,” Dorea said, reminding the woman of their blood relation, “Hermione is absolutely brilliant. I am truly grateful for her appearance in our life.” Walburga scoffed and reached out for Sirius who shifted just out of her grasp, closer to Dorea.

            “Son, come on” Walburga demanded.

            Sirius looked around dramatically and then pointed in the other direction towards a boy Hermione had never seen.

            “Your son is over there, Walburga.”

            Walburga’s eyes narrowed and Hermione saw how the woman’s hand was slowly moving towards her wand. Hermione found herself reaching for her own wand, out of instinct.

            _“You ungrateful, disappointing-“_

            “Au Revoir, Walburga. It certainly was not a pleasure!”

            Hermione let her defensive instincts go, realizing that Sirius was taking advantage of the public environment he was in. Walburga was shaking with anger as she watched Sirius kiss Dorea and Charlus on the cheek before sprinting towards the train, luggage in tow.

            “He’s not your son,” Walburga hissed at Dorea.

            Dorea simply turned away from the unpleasant woman and grabbed James’ face and planted a kiss on his forehead.

            “He is the heir to most noble and ancient House of Black,” Walburga continued.

            “My sweet prefect!” Dorea joyfully exclaimed, giving her son another hug.

            “ _Evans_ could be watching, mother. Please let me go!”

            “He’s going to become filthy blood traitor amongst the likes of you.”

            Hermione closed her eyes and began to count, trying to calm down but all she could hear was Walurga screaming _mudblood_.

            . “We care just as much about what you’re saying as your son does, so if you could leave my family to ourselves that would be ideal” Hermione told the woman coolly.

            “You little bit-“

            “ _Cousin_ , I suggest you do not finish that phrase,” Dorea’s voice was unlike anything Hermione had heard before. It was cold, threatening and deep and yet she was smiling widely as she said it. “Say goodbye to your son and let me bid farewell to my own children.” The cheerful tone returned as she called towards the retreating witch, “Send Alphard my love!”       

            “Mum, you’re a little terrifying sometimes,” James stated.

            “And beautiful all at once,” Charlus added.

            “And Hermione ruined Walburga’s day. Makes this whole trip that much more meaningful,” Dorea grinned at the young witch.

            “You looked ready to hex her,” James nudged Hermione and she blushed, not wanting to admit that he was correct.

            “I don’t take kindly towards anyone talking ill of those I care about,” she muttered.

            “We protect _you_. Not the other way,” Dorea whispered to Hermione with a meaningful look. Hermione simply nodded her head and threw herself into the older woman’s arms, realizing she was genuinely going to miss the Potters this school year. Hermione had grown accustomed to waking up early, picking a book out of the expansive library and drinking tea in the morning with Dorea.

            “Please tell Tinker I’m sorry, again,” Hermione asked.

            Dorea smirked and gave Hermione’s forehead a kiss.

            Charlus pulled the witch into a hug and she promised to write to them immediately after the sorting ceremony to let them know where she ended up.

            “C’mon Hermione, we all know it’s going to be Gryffindor,” James said for what was probably the hundredth time that week. At this point it was almost as though he was just convincing himself of this supposed universal truth.

            Hermione grabbed her things and gave one last hug to Dorea and Charlus each before following James onto the Hogwarts Express.

            “I’ve got to meet up with the prefects,” James told Hermione as they climbed aboard. Hermione was overcome with a feeling of nostalgia as she walked through the train, watching all of the students scramble about claiming ownership of compartments and searching for friends. “Our compartment is in the back of the fourth train car, on the left. Do you want me to walk you there first?” James had concern etched on his face.

            “James, I think I can manage making it to the-“

            “We’ll take her!” Two unfamiliar voices exclaimed and suddenly two incredibly tall boys she had never seen before flanked Hermione on both sides, although their bright red hair and identical faces gave their identities away immediately.

            “Erm, Hermione, I hadn’t realized you were acquainted with the Prewett twins,” James questioned as he tried to get back on Hermione’s side, attempting to squeeze between one of the red-headed boys, but they had already each latched an arm around her elbows.

            “It’s wonderful to meet you, Hermione,” the twin on her left said.

            “Our nephew can’t stop talking about you,” The other one said, snorting out a laugh.

            “Let my sister go!” James squeaked as threateningly as he could. Hermione rolled her eyes, considering these boys were well a foot over James’s head. While Hermione would have typically hexed anyone who grabbed her without asking like these boys were doing, she also felt as though they were likely to be just as stubborn as their future nephews.

            “Potter,” the one on the right grinned, “We’ve promised our dearest big sister to look after your sister this year.”

            “Of course, you’re first in command here and we report to you.”

            “I _can_ look after myself, thank you very much,” Hermione declared to deaf ears.

            James crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the twins before grinning and saluting them.

            “Welcome aboard the Sister Protection Squad, gentleman” James reached for each of their hands and shook before glancing down at this watch and yelping. “I’ve got to get to my prefects meeting. You don’t mind bringing Hermione to my compartment, do you?”

            “I can get to the compartment _myself”_ Hermione stated. James laughed at the disgruntled Hermione, feeling good about leaving her in the arms of the Prewett twins and waving goodbye as he ran in the other direction before calling out “Sirius, Remus and Peter should all already be in there!”

            _Peter._ Hermione paled. She had spent so much time enjoying the presence of people she had always been fond of or heard lovely stories of that she forgot she was going to have to face some of the worst people she had ever known in her life. Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach.

            “Erm, could we stop by your compartment first? I’m not feeling too well,” Hermione told the boys, still being guided by their soft grips on her arms. “Also, you boys haven’t even introduced yourselves to me. And could you please let me at least walk by myself?”

            The boys immediately let go of her arms and entered a compartment on the right, which was empty.

            ‘”I’m Fabian,” the boy who had been on the right of her said, extending his hand to meet hers.

            “Gideon,” the other said.

            Hermione took a moment to take in their appearance. They were identical, but they were easy to tell apart. Gideon’s hair was long enough to be pulled back whereas Fabian’s was cut short, much like Ron’s always was (Except for that dreadful fourth year). Gideon looked relaxed and was smiling lazily at her whilst his brother seemed to be examining her as much as she was analyzing them.

            “Molly wouldn’t tell us how she met you, but our nephews are _besotted_ with you,” Gideon informed the witch, breaking the silence. “They didn’t stop coming to your mansion for weeks.”

            “Bill asked Arthur if he could guarantee a betrothal with you,” Fabian added.

            Hermione rolled her eyes and laughed, once again struck by the absurdity that was her life now.

            “We couldn’t commit to the betrothal but we promised him we’d make sure blokes didn’t mess with you.”

            “I’m more than adept at handling some blokes myself,” Hermione huffed. Fabian and Gideon raked over Hermione’s small frame, looked at one another and simply winked at the witch. Hermione glared at them and made a mental note to think of ways in which she could give these boys a healthy dose of fear for her, like their future nephews held. Regardless of their patronizing, Hermione enjoyed interacting with someone other than James for few minutes.

            “Are you feeling better?” Fabian asked, genuine concerned etched in his voice.

            “We did promise to get you back to your brother’s friends,” Gideon stated, paying attention to the way in which Hermione stiffened and paled. He stared at her inquisitively before crossing his arms and asking, “Is it Black?”

            “Excuse me?”

            “Sirius. Did he make a move on you at the Potter manor and now you’re uncomfortable seeing him?” He was smiling the more he spoke, as if he had uncovered a great secret. Hermione shook her head and laughed, not denying the story as she didn’t want to (nor could she) explain the reason her stomach was flipping over itself as she thought about the rat sitting on this very train. Instead she re-directed the conversation.

            “What are you, an Auror?” Hermione teased.

            “That’s the goal,” he said smugly. “Me and Gideon are seventh years and have to start planning our post-graduate life”.

            “What about you, Fabian?”

            Fabian shrugged and scratched his arm nervously “Not sure, yet. Gideon has known he wants to be Auror since he was a little kid.”

            “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Hermione said kindly, “I didn’t know--  
er, well, I mean I still don’t know what I want to do. I’m thinking perhaps something in the Department of Magical Education.” Fabian smiled graciously back at her.

            “If you could figure out how to make _Defense Against the Dark Arts_ actually useful that’d be wicked,” Gideon complained. Hermione asked for Gideon to tell her more about the classes and professors at Hogwarts giving her to chance to close her eyes and allow the familiar train lull her into a peaceful rest.

            The rest was quickly ruined by a panicked yell of “HERMIONE?!” outside in the corridor. Hermione groaned and pointed her wand at the door to open it.

            “In here!” she yelled. James rushed in, wand held at the ready. Before James could accuse Gideon and Fabian of Merlin knows what Hermione explained “I wasn’t feeling very well so I took a nap in here— I’m fine,” she clarified upon seeing the concern on James’ face. “Just nervous. I wanted to meet your friends while you were there, anyways.”

            James’ concern faded as excitement lit up his face. He reached forward and pulled Hermione up. “You’re going to _love_ them!”

           “Potter,” Gideon yelled as they ran out, “Keep an eye on Black.”

            Hermione rolled her eyes at them but waved goodbye, happy to have met them.

            James was basically dragging Hermione through the train towards his friends—men Hermione knew in the future, who were merely boys now and had a full life-time suffering awaiting them.


End file.
